


Live to Tell

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Highlander: The Raven, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama, Explicit Sex, Falling In Love, Foul Language, Immortals, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Secrets, Temporary Character Death, Workplace Accidents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-16 11:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17548769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: A failed trading mission results in the Atlantis team taking home a refugee who claims to be from Earth - but is there more to his story?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to N. for feeding the plot bunnies and to Rhiannon Shaw and Raven Nevar, who beta read this when it was new 11 years ago. 75% of this was written years ago. Yes, this is another of my long-abandoned fics that I'm finally finishing - and am looking forward to your comments!
> 
> Canon notes: AU for SGA; Woolsey never replaced Carter; Teyla was a self-rescuing queen who killed her kidnapper, escaped, and gave birth to a healthy boy; and the Wraith were defeated in the Pegasus Galaxy without ever knowing about Earth’s exact location. (Yes, I hated most of the last two seasons, why do you ask?)
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance if anyone gets an ear worm from listening to Madonna's "Live to Tell," because this is how I dealt with getting said ear worm.

_March 2010, Tuesday, 11:30 AM Atlantean Time_

“Well, that was a waste,” John said as he and his team walked back to the Stargate. They’d found a small city whose leaders had been quite insistent they didn’t need any trade, thank you, and don’t let the backwash from the Gate hit you on the ass as you leave. The city had the weapons to back up their isolationist attitudes, and the team reluctantly had decided to retreat.

“Could be worse,” Ronon offered. “Could have shot us.”

“Thanks for reminding us we could have been killed, yet again,” Rodney said. “As if I didn’t have enough scenarios to add to my nightmares, thank you.”

Ronon grinned briefly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” John mused. “I appreciate the reminder that we’re still in one piece.”

They’d neared the DHD just as the Stargate opened. A man ran through, looking like the hounds of hell were on him. He skidded to a stop in front of the DHD and stared at the team. Though there were noticeable rips and tears in his clothing as well as bloodstains, he wore a finely embroidered tan shirt over a green tunic, suede pants, a leather sword sheath, and boots. A small leather pack was slung over one shoulder. He held a bloodstained sword in his right hand. He was the same height as John, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a rangy, athletic body on a medium frame.

“Where is this?” he demanded, sounding slightly winded.

“The locals call it Solteria,” John said. “They don’t like strangers. We were just leaving.”

The stranger absorbed this information. “Well, guess that means I’m out of luck. Again.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it as he shrugged. “On to the next.” He moved towards the DHD, but Ronon blocked his path.

The stranger assessed Ronon with a slow, assessing gaze, and offered his best charming smile. “Look, if you just let me dial, I’ll be out of your way in no time. Unless, of course, you’d like to join me on my merry wanderings, killing Wraith, guarding traders, and demonstrating the magic of the Ancestors.” He spoke lightly, but everyone heard the bitterness underlying his words.

“Where are you headed?” Ronon asked.

“Someplace safe, where the Wraith aren’t a threat, if anywhere like that exists here anymore,” the stranger said. “Preferably not Latria.” He grimaced as his left hand brushed the blood staining the sleeves of his tunic. “They have this notion that turning on the Ancestors’ devices requires shedding blood.”

“What if we could offer you that sanctuary?” John asked.

The stranger took note of the uniform John wore. His eyes lingered over the rank insignia on John’s collar and the American flag on John’s uniform before he lifted his gaze to meet John’s. It was, John thought, as if he recognized what those bits of metal and fabric meant.

“I’d be interested,” he said cautiously. “Name’s Nick Wolfe.” He sheathed his sword and offered a smile. “So where is this sanctuary?” He looked over at Ronon, his smile becoming more flirtatious. “And what’s your name?”

“Explanations and introductions later,” Rodney said, sounding stressed, “go now, before the Solterians start shooting.”

The team turned to see the Soleterian guard standing a blaster’s distance away, weapons raised.

“Dial home,” John directed Ronon. Once the gate was dialed, John tapped his headset. “Control, this is Sheppard. We’re coming back and we’ve a refugee with us. Close the gate as soon as we’re through – the Solterians really want us to leave their lovely planet alone, and they might fire.”

“Understood, Colonel,” Sam said evenly. “What happened with the Solterians?”

“They don’t like visitors, don’t need strangers, and most certainly don’t want any traders,” John replied. “We tried, but they were not impressed. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I will, once you’re back,” Sam countered. “Is the refugee from Solteria?”

“No. I’ll explain when we’re back but have Dr. Keller on standby. He’s got a lot of blood on him, might be wounded.”

“I’m fine,” Nick insisted, overhearing the conversation.

Over the radio, there was a pause. “We’re ready for you.”

“See you in a few,” John promised. To Nick, he said, “We’ll get you checked out by a doctor as soon as we’re through, just to be sure.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated as the Gate opened.

They made it through just as the first blaster opened fire. The hit resounded against the gate shield with a heavy thunk as Nick abruptly fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, is our refugee awake yet?” John asked Dr. Keller half an hour later.

“Not yet,” she replied. “From the tests I’ve run, he’s dehydrated, half-starved, and entirely human, although with the Ancient gene.”

John considered the information, glanced at the sleeping patient in the infirmary bed, and returned his gaze to Dr. Keller. “Not a Replicator or a Wraith?”

“As sure as I can be with the tests we have,” she said firmly. “Unless they’ve become something we don’t know about and can’t test for.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble, shall we?” John suggested, grimacing at the thought.

“One more thing: from the way his clothes are torn and stained, I’d say he was in a hell of a fight before he ran into you. But there aren’t any scars to show someone hurt him.”

John offered her a quick smile. “Maybe he’s just that good of a swordsman.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, doubtful. “I’ll ask him when he wakes up.”

“I’ll bet you he says he’s good enough to still be alive,” John countered. “Let me know when he wakes up. I want to chat with him.”

“Will do, and I’ll pass on the bet. You have the craziest luck of anyone I’ve ever known.”

John grinned and turned to walk out of the infirmary.

* * *

_Tuesday, 5:30 PM Atlantean Time_

Fainting, Nick decided, was embarrassing, but considering everything he’d been through recently, he gave himself a break. He therefore was not surprised to find he’d woken up in an infirmary, nor was he surprised to find his hosts had confiscated his most dangerous possessions.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” The woman’s lab coat declared her name to be Dr. Keller; the uniform she wore under it made it clear she was part of the same group as he had met at the Ring of the Ancestors. “You slept the afternoon away. How are you feeling?”

“Better, but hungry,” Nick told her, hearing his stomach rumble ominously.

“Well, I’ve got you hooked up to some fluids, so you shouldn’t be thirsty. Now that you’re awake, I’ll get some food for you. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

He considered. “I’m not sure – three days, maybe. The Latrians promised me a feast if I helped them turn on their devices. Said it was the least I could do for them since they had done me a favor. When I figured out how they planned on me helping, I got the hell out of there.”

“That explains a few things,” Dr. Keller murmured. “Despite all the blood on your clothes, you’re not injured, which means all of that blood was someone else’s. Had to fight your way out of there?”

Nick let out a breath. “Yeah.” He did not want to think about how many Latrians he’d had to kill to escape. He also did not want to linger on his grief over losing his companion, Zenye, who had been the closest person he had to a friend.

She smiled understandingly. “Well, I’m glad you stayed in one piece. You are anemic, so I’ve given you some blood to replace what you lost, and I want to keep you here for the next several hours to make sure you’re not suffering any other ill effects. I had to get rid of your clothes; all that blood made me wonder about you.”

“I can replace clothes. I appreciate you being so thorough,” Nick told her as he smiled. Anywhere was safer than where he had been. The amount of Earth technology he saw interfacing with Ancient devices reassured him even as it made him wonder how they had made it work. Silently, he hoped whatever tech they had could not detect immortality, but he would deal with that when he came to it.

“My pleasure. I’ll be right back with some soup.”

He’d just finished the soup Dr. Keller had brought him when a blonde, uniformed woman entered the room, the colonel who’d spoken to Nick a step behind her.

“I hope you’re doing better,” the blonde woman greeted. “Nick Wolfe, is it?”

He nodded and offered her a smile. “Call me Nick. And you are?”

“Colonel Samantha Carter. I’m the leader of the expedition here, and as you may already know,” she gestured to the man beside her, “this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, the commander of the military contingent.”

Nick smiled. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but –” he glanced down at his right hand and his left arm, where IV lines ran “—I’m a little constrained at the moment.”

“We understand,” Colonel Carter said easily, a faint smile appearing on her lips. “Are you feeling better, though?”

“Yes,” Nick said with a nod. “I still can’t believe the Latrians thought bleeding someone would make their shield work better. They said it was because I could make the devices of the Ancestors work.”

“Two months ago, we tried explaining to them you have to be born with the gene that makes those devices work,” Colonel Sheppard replied, his face reflecting his disgust and anger. “They didn’t seem to want to understand.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” Nick said tiredly _._ “Their faith won’t let them see you need not kill someone to turn on one of the Ancestor’s machines.” He sighed. “They killed my employer and companion, Zeyne, before I could convince them otherwise. They almost killed me, trying to get them to turn on their machines. There are days when I wish I’d never touched that damned crystal; that was one of them.”

“Crystal?” Colonel Sheppard asked. He exchanged looks with Colonel Carter.

“Yeah, there was a crystal. Looked like a 3-D six-pointed star made of a weird stained-glass crystal, thought it was the coolest piece of glasswork I’d ever seen,” Nick said, and watched his visitor’s expressions turn to wary surprise. “I picked it up, noticed it was glowing, and the next thing I know I’m waking up in a pasture full of these goat-cows the locals called sylwen.”

Colonel Carter leaned forward intently. “Where were you when the crystal transported you?”

“Paris, France,” Nick said, and watched disbelief and suspicion war on her face before she composed herself. “I know, I couldn’t believe it either. I didn’t know where the hell I was at first.” He chuckled humorlessly, remembering those first days. “Some days, I still don’t. I’ve been going through so many of the Ancestors’ Rings, hoping to find a way home, because Yagur doesn’t exist anymore.”

“What happened to Yagur?” Colonel Sheppard wondered.

“The Wraith came while I was trading on Belthan. When I came back, the sylwen were all that was left.” Nick’s mouth tightened at the memory. “I’m sure you’ve heard that story a million times already, if you’ve been here any length of time.”

“We have,” Colonel Carter acknowledged, “but it doesn’t make it any less devastating. How long ago was this?”

“By my count, it was about a year and a half after I arrived. Since then, I’ve been going all over trying to find somewhere safe, some place to call home if I can’t get back to Earth. There aren’t that many places left. There are places where something other than the Wraith is just leveling everything.”

“We know about that,” Colonel Carter said, “and we believe we’ve eradicated that threat.”

“Oh, good,” Nick replied, relieved. “What did that?”

“Replicators,” Colonel Carter informed him. “They planned to fight the Wraith by destroying the Wraith food supply.”

Nick winced. “I thought the Wraith were bad enough.”

From the looks on his visitors’ faces, they shared his sentiment.

“I know this may be a long shot,” Colonel Sheppard drawled, “but do you still have the crystal? We’d hate for someone else to stumble across it.”

“If you’re asking where it is now, I smashed it,” Nick admitted. “I got angry when I found out no one even knew where Earth was, when everyone on Yagur thought I should be grateful to be alive. It wouldn’t take me back home.” He stared at his hands, recalling his fury.

“That’s where it is now,” Colonel Carter noted. “Was it given to you?”

Nick looked up at her, hearing an odd note in her voice, as if she knew how dangerous some gifts could be. Her face invited his confidence even as it gave nothing away. He knew they would take mental notes on what he told them; he would do the same in their shoes.

“I found it in my friend’s storage room. She’s got a lot of old stuff, and I was supposed to find her a dress for the Halloween masquerade ball we were hosting at the club, and I got distracted by the crystal.”

“Would your friend have filed a missing person report on you?” Colonel Carter asked.

Nick smiled wryly. “Not right away; she’d have waited until she’d exhausted her network of contacts. She trusted them more than she trusted the police.”

“Why?”

“Amanda had her reasons,” Nick hedged and shrugged. “She must think I’m dead by now.”

“When did you pick up the crystal?”

“October 28, 2003,” Nick told them. “I had the day off from running the club, and I was running errands. Amanda called me on my cell and asked me to stop off at her storage unit. I gave her grief because I was on my motorcycle and didn’t really have a way of bringing her a dress without wrinkling it.” He laughed shortly. “Never thought my last words to her would be arguing about a dress.” He paused. “So just how long have I been gone?”

“On Earth,” Colonel Carter said gently, “it’s March 9, 2010. You’ve been gone almost seven years.”

“Seven—” Nick repeated, shocked. _Amanda wouldn’t look for me this long. She’d have given the Watchers holy hell and then, when they wouldn’t have word, moved on. Probably thinks I’m dead, killed by some immortal the Watchers didn’t know about._ He took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Thanks. I figured I’ve been gone a long time. I never thought I’d have been gone long enough for the American military to find its way here.” He paused. “So where is here anyway? All I’ve ever figured out is that I’m not in the same galaxy as Earth.”

“You’re in the Pegasus Galaxy,” Colonel Carter said. “As for where you are, exactly, you’re a guest in a safe location.”

Nick stared at her. “Right. It’s classified, and you won’t tell me. Just, please, tell me I’m somewhere less than six Rings of the Ancestors closer to Earth?”

“You’re still a very long way from Earth,” Colonel Sheppard replied. “Even in our fastest spaceship, it takes three weeks to make the trip, which is why your finding a crystal to transport you here is incredible.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Nick said ruefully, remembering, “the trip knocked me out. I came to in a pasture with the sylwen. Big, stupid things, look like crosses between water buffalo and camels, but good milk. Tasted like a mix of goat’s and cow’s milk.”

“You’re lucky the trip didn’t kill you,” Colonel Sheppard informed him.

Nick blinked, surprised. “Kill me?”

Colonel Sheppard nodded. “Some devices the Ancestors built are lethal. We’re still figuring out what some of them are ourselves. If we showed you a picture of what you touched, do you think you could identify it?”

“Sure,” Nick agreed readily as he watched Colonel Sheppard open the tablet computer he carried. A few keystrokes later, Colonel Sheppard showed him the picture.

For a long moment, Nick stared at it, remembering how he’d cursed the thing, then been grateful that it had brought him to a place where no one hunted him for being immortal, no one Watched him, and what he could contribute mattered. Then the Wraith had come, altering his life again. “Yeah,” he said finally, hating the way his voice caught. “That’s it.”

“Thanks, that helps,” Colonel Sheppard said as he tucked the tablet under his arm again. “We found a few in a room here, but never could get them to work. I’ll let Rodney know his guess about how you came here was right.”

“Why don’t you go do that now?” Colonel Carter suggested. “I’m sure he’ll want you to help try them out.”

Colonel Sheppard hesitated as if he did not want to leave her alone with Nick. She shot him a look, and he acknowledged the dismissal with a nod. To Nick, he said, “I’ll bring videos by later; I know how boring it is to lie there.” With that, he turned crisply and walked out of the infirmary.

“What happens to me now?” Nick asked once Colonel Sheppard had left. “I assume you won’t give me back my weapons just yet or let me go back to Earth.”

“Well,” Colonel Carter said, “first, you get better, and then we’ll talk about what you can do. Either way, sending someone back to Earth isn’t easy.” She smiled easily. “It takes quite a lot of power to send someone between galaxies.”

Nick considered her words. “Am I a prisoner?” Awkwardly, he gestured to the two MPs stationed just beyond the private infirmary room.

“No,” she said flatly. “If you were, we’d be having a different discussion. The guards are standard procedure. We’ve had some… problems in the past with injured refugees. Sometimes even our own people have gotten violent when they’ve been injured. You’ll get your sword and other possessions back when Dr. Keller releases you to guest quarters.” She took a quick breath and added, “I believe you. The problem is that we need some confirmation. You wouldn’t still have any identification on you?”

“Didn’t see the point in keeping any of it once I realized no one here knew where Earth was,” Nick said ruefully. He took a deep breath. “But I kept hoping anyway. I hid my driver’s license and passport in my pack – I sewed them into the inner lining so I wouldn’t lose them.”

Surprised, she nodded. “Where are you from?”

“I was a cop for ten years in Torago, Illinois,” he told her, hoping they would reward his honesty. For the first time in years, he had hope he would go home. “I moved to Paris in the fall of ‘99 because I had a job offer from a friend which turned into my owning a nightclub.” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d miss hearing techno.”

“I could hook you up with some, if you like.”

He chuckled again, liking her more than he had when she first entered the room. “Not sure if I miss it that much. Seriously, if you need me to answer anything, I’ll do my best. I know places the Wraith haven’t touched, places you can get medicine and weapons and the locals aren’t likely to chase you off as soon as you get through the Ring.”

“We can always use that information. I’ll have Teyla get the addresses from you.” She studied Nick a moment. “You were here before the Wraith were awakened. What was it like on Yagur?”

“I had time to adjust to being someplace other than Earth, whose days were slightly shorter and whose people counted the days by the seasons. I had been a city boy; they taught me how to raise sylwen and how to tell time from the position of the sun and the moons. The elders named me as their Protector since I’d come as a gift of the Ancestors and knew the ways of the sword. They weren’t soldiers, but they knew they needed security to help them.” Nick’s mouth tightened in remembrance and he looked down at his hands, wishing he had done more, knowing he could not have saved them all. “I didn’t think I’d ever get back to Earth, so I learned their history, learned who the Ancestors were, that I had the ability to turn on things the Ancestors created, which meant I fixed a machine for milking the sylwen that had been broken for two generations.”

“Somehow I think you didn’t intend to fix it.”

Nick laughed softly. “Actually, I did. Milking a sylwen by hand always made me sneeze.”

“Did the Yagurians say anything about the Wraith?”

Nick said nothing for a moment, remembering the peaceful times before the culling. He’d believed his life would end on that seemingly endless stretch of dairy farmland and had learned the customs of his adopted people. He had been grateful for the pleasure of not worrying about other immortals wanting his head in the Game. He had considered his future as his adopted people’s Protector, listening to the advice he should marry, had even agreed to his people’s choice of his bride. He closed his eyes, hating that he had survived, again, and the woman he had cared about had not.

He opened his eyes to find Colonel Carter still waiting steadily. Something in the way she sat and looked at him, as if she herself had seen atrocities far worse than the Wraith, calmed him.

“The Wraith hadn’t raided Yagur in three generations. I left to go trade for fabric and believed they would be safe.” He looked at Colonel Carter, saw her understanding mirrored on her face. “Never in my life did I believe I’d walk through the Gate just after a culling, too late to save anyone. I buried the dead, the ones the Wraith fed upon and discarded, killed what Wraith remained. Almost died a few times too many. The Yagurians called me Protector and I failed them.” As the memory of his failure rose like bile, Nick swallowed hard. “At first, all I wanted to do was kill every Wraith I saw. Then I kept seeing it happen repeatedly, in all the worlds I visited, everywhere I asked questions. Everyone told me the Wraith had risen and were culling everyone. Nowhere was safe.”

“You’re safe here now,” Colonel Carter assured him. “We have the means to defend ourselves against the Wraith.”

Nick half-smiled. “Ah, the might of the American military,” he joked, and saw an answering smile. “It doesn’t really matter. All I want now is to go home to Paris, see if my club is still mine, and if my friends remember me.”

“I understand,” Colonel Carter said with a reassuring smile. “Is there anything left on Yagur?”

Nick shrugged. “I haven’t been back there in years, so I couldn’t tell you. I know the milking machines used a weird battery I didn’t dare take apart, but the power seemed infinite.”

From the look on her face, Nick suspected she knew exactly what that power source was.

“Thank you for answering our questions. I’ll let you get rest so you can get well,” she told him before leaving.

It didn’t escape Nick’s notice she hadn’t promised to send him back to Earth. If they were all stuck here, then Nick wasn’t sure if he was any better off than where he’d been. At least out there, he was free.

* * *

_Tuesday, 6:30 PM Atlantean Time_

“How can we be certain this Nick isn’t an agent for our enemies?” Rodney argued at the hastily convened senior staff meeting. “All we got is his word.”

“You took me at my word,” Ronon pointed out, lounging in his customary chair at the conference table.

“That was different,” Rodney insisted. “That was John’s word.”

“Worked out, didn’t it?” Ronon drawled.

“I checked his belongings again; he has an American passport and a French driver’s license. Both were cleverly hidden, but they would be hard to fake,” Sam pointed out. “We have a query ready to send to Stargate Command, but we have to wait until their recalibration is complete before we send the data.”

“Which makes Nick still suspect for a lot of things,” Rodney insisted. He turned to Sam. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed, sick or something?”

“I’m feeling better, and this is too important,” Sam answered dryly. She’d suffered a paralyzing allergic reaction to one of the root vegetables they’d brought back from a new trading partner; several other members of the Atlantis crew had also gotten ill, but none to the degree she had. Today was the first day she was out of a wheelchair and fully mobile. “And your concern for me is touching as always, Rodney.”

“Yes, well, if you’re out of commission, then everything becomes my responsibility, and I never remember how much I hate it until you’re not available,” Rodney said with a wave of his hand.

“I do not see what the problem is,” Teyla remarked. “If this Nick Wolfe is truly Terran and wishes to return home, why should he not be allowed to go? He is not like you. He did not choose to be here.”

“He might have,” Rodney said.

“Even if he didn’t, he’s a risk, either way,” Ronon noted. “Isn’t that the problem?”

“Partly,” John agreed. “He has the gene, and he knows about Atlantis.”

“There are people on Earth who’d love to use someone who has that knowledge for their own gain,” Sam put in, ignoring Rodney’s scowl at the reminder.

“I still do not see the problem,” Teyla insisted. “He is human. He is no more a risk than Rodney’s sister.”

“True,” John conceded. “What I don’t understand is how a businessman would be armed with a sword that looks like something out of a museum.”

“He could have traded for it on Serling,” Teyla countered. “There is a large marketplace there.”

“Nice sword,” Ronon remarked. “Good heft and balance. Better than mine.”

“Exactly my point. No one uses swords like that on Earth anymore,” Rodney interjected.

“If it was from Serling, it wouldn’t have the marks on the base of the hilt it does,” Ronon added, then studied Sam a moment. “You believe Nick’s story?”

“I’ve heard more creative lies. I believe him,” Sam said tiredly, her hands underscoring her words. “We’ve only begun to discover what objects the Ancients might have left on Earth. Someone without the gene could have bought a trinket back from Egypt, back when having something like that was a fashion statement and no one cared about preserving it for history and passed it down to Nick’s friend. He might be a Trust agent, but I do not see why they would put him all the way out here even before we knew this galaxy existed.”

Rodney frowned. “What about him working for the Genii? Or the Wraith? Or God knows who else might have a grudge against us for occupying the city? I mean, just because part of his story checks out doesn’t mean he isn’t telling us the whole truth.”

“The Yagurians were a peaceful group,” Teyla put in. “We traded with them many, many times.”

“So did we,” Ronon added. “They would defend themselves from thieves, but they weren’t soldiers. Best cheese in the galaxy.”

“According to Nick,” Sam said, “the Yagurians were culled out of existence by the Wraith, something we’ve verified with a MALP. Nick arrived too late to save anyone; he’d been out trading.” She considered a moment, then added, “He said he wanted to kill every Wraith he saw afterwards.”

“I like him more and more,” Ronon said.

John glanced at Ronon curiously. Ronon’s criteria for liking people was fairly straightforward, but the spark of interest he’d seen flare between Ronon and Nick had another layer to it entirely. While he didn’t care that Ronon’s interest was of the same gender, John wasn’t sure he liked Ronon getting involved with an outsider, especially one with such an incredible story. This galaxy had a way of making the ordinary seem dangerous, and the extraordinary kept proving even more so. It made John wary.

“Still doesn’t leave out –” Rodney began.

“No, it doesn’t,” John agreed, “but if you were stuck here and didn’t think you were going back to Earth soon, wouldn’t you do just about anything to get by? He told me he’s been traveling from Gate to Gate, trading manual labor or his skill with his sword for food and shelter, never staying more than a few weeks so he wasn’t a burden to anyone and didn’t get into anyone’s politics. He said he didn’t choose to go to Latria, but he wouldn’t say what brought him there. Whatever he’s been through, I think he deserves to go back home.”

“We finally have enough power to make this city fly, but the SGC just started on a scheduled recalibration of the Stargate on Earth to boost power so we could dial home without draining the ZPM here,” Rodney said. “He can’t go home just yet.”

Sam nodded. “Not for another week at least, and the SGC would prefer we not send him home on one of our ships. We can’t assume we have power to spare. There may still be Wraith hives out there that we don’t know about or other threats.”

“That means we have time to verify he’s not working for anyone, find out what he knows,” Rodney mused. “Didn’t Nick tell you he helped turn on an Ancient device on Yagur? That might mean Yagur had a ZPM. Any place where they used Ancient tech to automate something had to run on power.”

“As exciting a prospect as that may be,” Teyla said, “has anyone asked Nick Wolfe if he wants to stay?”

“When I brought the selection of DVDs by, I asked him if he’d thought about staying in this galaxy,” John said. “He said he wanted to get back home. He misses his life.” John shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him. Life here is harsher in some ways than on Earth. You might find a place with medicine and weapons, but they might make you pay for them with your life.” He paused, then added, “He asked me what he owed us for saving him.”

“Owed?” Rodney asked, confused. “Does he honestly think we’d charge him, after the Lantrians undoubtedly tried to kill him in their barbaric ritual? What the hell does he think he can pay us in? He has, what, a sword, the clothes he’s wearing, and –” Rodney’s voice trailed off as he realized what the others had already concluded. “Himself. That’s just… that’s just fucked up.”

“I agree,” Teyla noted gently, “but as you have seen, Rodney, many things in this galaxy become tradable if one will negotiate.”

“Don’t tell me you agree with the practice,” Rodney said hotly.

“I did not say I agreed, but from the brief glance of the gate addresses Nick provided, he has been to a few places where that was an acceptable form of payment.”

“I hate this galaxy,” Rodney muttered to no one.

Sam asked, “Teyla, would you mind speaking with Nick, get a sense of what he knows? It can wait until morning if you’d rather.”

“It would give him the chance to rest the rest of the evening,” Teyla agreed.

“Let me talk to him,” Ronon put in. “Give the man some time to adjust to being here first before you interrogate him.”

“You’re going with us to PX3-156 tomorrow,” John reminded him, and watched disappointment flare across Ronon’s face. “Best let Teyla do it, especially since Dr. Keller said she planned to release him as soon as you–” he looked at Sam when he said this “-gave the okay to move him to guest quarters. She sees no reason to keep him in the infirmary if he doesn’t push himself. We’ll be gone most of the day tomorrow and the next if the folks on PX3-156 invite us to dinner. It would give us a chance to see how well he does with no guards assigned to him and let us finish crosschecking the database for the gate addresses he’s given us. Given our efforts to evacuate so many worlds from the path of the Replicators, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been to some places that don’t exist anymore.”

“What about Yagur?” Rodney asked.

Sam considered it. “After you return from PX3-156,” she said, and watched Rodney’s face fall. “We need the fresh food.”

Rodney scowled. “Only because no one’s grown anything on the mainland.”

“Giant poisonous snake and tons of jungles, remember?” John said. “And you’re allergic to half the fruit we’ve found here.”

Rodney waved off the reminder. “Can I skip this one, Sam?”

“I thought you were looking forward to meeting Quia again,” Teyla teased.

“Like I look forward to eating citrus,” Rodney said dryly. “Sam, really. I want to see if we can manufacture ZPMs now that we have enough power; what we have will not last forever, even if we scale back power distribution, which we need to do anyway.”

“Let’s talk about that on the way back to my quarters,” Sam requested, “but I agree. I don’t think you need Rodney for this, do you, John?”

“Quia likes him,” John replied with a grin, referring to the leader of the settlement on PX3-156. “But maybe if he’s not there, she’ll be more inclined to part with more.”

“Worth a try,” Sam said with a shrug. “As for Nick, let’s see how he does. Doesn’t Quia prefer to negotiate with a woman?”

“Yes,” Teyla acknowledged. “Dr. Lindsey Sharp has agreed to accompany the team tomorrow. She is the one responsible for setting up the treaty with Quia and has been looking forward to returning.”

“Excellent choice,” Sam said. “All right, I think that settles everything, unless anyone other than Rodney has questions.” When no one spoke, Sam continued, “Rodney, would you mind accompanying me back to my quarters? That way we can talk about the power distribution and not bore everyone else.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Wednesday, 07:45 AM Atlantean Time_

To Nick’s relief, Dr. Keller only needed him to stay overnight in the infirmary. Nick had no plans on revealing that, despite a lack of visible scars, he had been injured on Latria. The sooner he got away from the infirmary and its machines, the better he would feel. After Dr. Keller had removed all the monitoring and IV equipment from him, she’d given him a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants to replace the bloodstained clothes he’d been wearing when he arrived.

No sooner than he had changed into the borrowed clothing and sat back down on the bed for lack of anything better to do, two male military police officers entered the room. They were quick enough that Nick suspected they had been waiting for him to get dressed.

“Morning, Mr. Wolfe,” the older of the pair greeted him, revealing a British accent. The two men wore the same uniform, but the flag patch on Sergeant Peters’s uniform stated he was a member of the British Army, whereas Sergeant Childe’s stated he was from Canada. “I’m Sergeant Peters and this is Sergeant Childe.” He gestured to the stocky man next to him. “We’ll be your escort this morning.”

“Escort to where?” Nick asked warily. He was not entirely surprised he had an armed guard to greet him, but it did tell him this facility ran under military protocols, and not just American ones either. It made sense that this venture was a UN operation; he could imagine no single government being willing to front the entire cost.

Sergeant Peters shrugged and smiled. “Our orders are to take you to the mess hall to let you eat breakfast.”

“Will I be getting my sword and other personal items back soon?” Nick asked.

Sergeant Childe frowned and looked to Sergeant Peters for the answer. “Ms. Emmagan will be meeting you in the mess hall,” Sergeant Peters replied. “She will answer all of your questions then.”

Nick got out of bed. “Who’s Ms. Emmagan?”

“She’s the liaison between our people and the peoples of this galaxy,” Sergeant Childe told him.

“I see,” Nick replied, and let the matter stand for now. He followed the two sergeants out of the infirmary.

Once at the mess hall, they made a quick check to see if he remembered cafeteria-style dining. He did, and they left him to enjoy his breakfast in relative peace. It did not escape his notice, though, that his escort remained a discreet distance away. Whoever was in charge trusted him… to a point.

He was finished with eating breakfast, had removed his food debris, and was contemplating how much he had forgotten the taste of coffee when a petite woman with honey brown hair and skin the color of burnished copper entered his field of vision. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. Though her clothes looked typical for a native of the Pegasus Galaxy, Nick did not miss the fact she wore the headset he surmised linked the city’s senior staff and its security teams with each other, or that the hilt of a knife stuck out from a sheath on her belt.

“Good morning,” she greeted, smiling. “I am Teyla Emmagan.” She extended her hand for him to shake.

When he shook her hand, he found it to be callused, as if she had wielded weapons or done manual labor. She had a firm, precise grip. The quick, relieved look on her face told Nick she was much more accustomed to another form of greeting – not that handshakes were bad, but that she still found them strange. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Emmagan. I’m Nick, as you know.”

She smiled. “You may call me Teyla,” she returned. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

He gestured to his cup. “I’d forgotten what coffee tasted like.” Wryly, he added, “How in the world I used to drink this stuff by the gallon escapes me now.”

“Rodney, our chief scientist, says the coffee here is bad,” Teyla said. “Colonel Sheppard says it is a universal truth: mess hall coffee is supposed to be bad.”

Nick chuckled. “Indeed. Just give me a moment to get rid of this mug.” She nodded acceptance and soon they were on their way out of the mess hall.

“I appreciate you taking the time to show me where I’ll be staying,” he told her. He did not see the guard who had escorted him to the mess hall but suspected they would follow him and Teyla until they reached their destination. If his hosts were competent at security, they would watch all public areas. He spent a moment to wonder where the cameras were. The architecture did not lend itself to any obvious placement, and he put the momentary concern aside and focused on his companion.

Teyla smiled. “It is my pleasure and a welcome break.”

“Oh? What do you do?” He fell into step next to her, automatically shortening his stride to match hers. Even as he did so, he noted he did not have to shorten it too far. She seemed accustomed to walking with others of his height.

Her smile widened. “I teach the new personnel. We could use some new input on what we have titled, ‘Pegasus Galaxy 101 – How to Win Friends and Better Trade.’ Would you like to contribute?”

“Me?” Nick asked, surprised, then narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “That makes me think I’m not going back to Earth right away.”

“If we can, I would prefer to explain in your quarters, rather than in the hallways,” Teyla told him.

“All right,” Nick conceded. He could see the need for privacy; there was enough foot traffic to consider the space public.

The hallway they were in split off in a Y. After taking the right fork for a short distance, Teyla stepped forward in front of what had appeared to be a decorative section of wall. A small panel with four lights in it slid forward, and she waved her left hand across the panel. The lights lit up, then a door slid open next to it.

Intrigued, Nick followed her inside, only realizing they were stepping into one of the city’s transporters when the display screen in the rear of the enclosure revealed itself and she keyed in a destination.

After several minutes in the transporter, Teyla said nothing as she led him through a plant-filled corridor and six doors down to a room that opened as soon as they stopped in front of the door. Nick followed her inside.

“I hope you like it. This will be your room while you are staying with us.”

Someone set the room up like a small studio apartment or a suite in a business-class hotel, complete with a small seating area, a simple desk, and a neatly made bed. A nightstand beside the bed held a glass carafe of water and a tumbler. A portable DVD player sat on the coffee table; the DVDs Colonel Sheppard had given him in a neat stack beside it. His sword lay on the dresser, looking as if someone had cleaned and polished it. Nick appreciated that they had done so; he had not looked forward to cleaning dried blood off it. Its sheath lay neatly beside it. His leather pack sat on the dresser. His hosts had stocked the attached bathroom with towels and toiletries. Nick smiled as he recognized name brands he had forgotten existed. Someone had stacked a handful of books on the desk, either guessing he liked mysteries or that was what was available.

Teyla let him explore his new surroundings without comment. “There are clothes in the closet,” she announced when he returned from his perusal of the bathroom. “Based on what you told Dr. Keller last night when she asked you about replacing the clothes you’d worn, we found clothes your size. If nothing fits, please let us know and we’ll exchange them.”

Nick looked at her. “How long am I expected to be here?”

“At least a week, perhaps two,” Teyla said. “There is a map of the city in the binder on the desk with the public areas marked. For your safety, I would suggest you do not go outside of these areas.”

“What’s to stop me from going through the Ring here, go someplace else?”

“Access to the Ring here is heavily restricted,” Teyla informed him. “When my people lived here, they did not permit us to use it freely.”

Nick stared at her, astonished. “Was this your city?”

Teyla smiled, amused by the idea. “No, though it is home for me now. This city was a legend on Athos, much as it was a legend among your people. The lost city of the Ancestors was something out of a child’s dream for me until Colonel Sheppard rescued my people from the Wraith and brought us here. We lived here for a time, helping the expedition with setting up themselves. Then my people decided they wanted to resettle elsewhere.” Sadness flashed across her face and she visibly pulled herself together. “I stayed.”

“I see.” Nick wondered if she’d become involved with Colonel Sheppard, then told himself to be ashamed for jumping to conclusions. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“We have checked the gate addresses you gave us,” Teyla said. “We already knew many of the worlds you have visited.” She smiled apologetically and added, “The people here call the Ancestor’s Rings ‘Stargates’, or ‘Gates.’ I find it is simpler to say.”

Nick accepted the news with a nod. He’d hoped for better. It made sense that the expedition would have found or formed a record of gate addresses. Everything he’d seen so far showed an operation that had been in place for an extensive amount of time.

“It was worth a shot,” Nick said regretfully. “Guess I’ll just have to figure out what to do next.”

She smiled gently. “I would love for you to sit in on my class. Would you be interested?”

 _Maybe if I go to this class, I’ll get some of my questions answered_ , he thought. “I’d love to, Teyla. Where will I find you?”

She gave him directions, which he committed to memory.

“I realize that you have been through much,” Teyla began, “and that in your travels you have encountered many people. Did you never hear of this city before?”

“Not as someplace anyone was living in,” Nick replied. “There were rumors that someone was taking a stand against the Wraith, but when I heard it was the Ancestors, I chalked it up to some drunken rambling. Thought it was the Genii, but–” he flashed her a grin “–that was because I didn’t trust the Genii. They always struck me as odd, even when we traded them with them on Yagur.”

“Odd?” Teyla prompted, her face reflecting curiosity.

“I used to be a police officer, someone who enforced the law of my city,” Nick explained. “The Genii I met reminded me of some criminals I met. Smooth talking, good clothes, would fit in anywhere – except they always asked me about the machines we had, how they worked, if I knew how they worked. Never made sense they’d ask repeatedly, unless they were working on something that might use that technology.” He saw from the emotion that flashed across Teyla’s face she knew something about that, but he decided not to discover what. Some things he was better off not knowing. “I ran into a few Genii after I left Yagur and decided I was better off not buying what they were selling – or helping them steal what they wanted.”

“A wise choice. I am sorry to ask you so many questions, but–”

“It’s okay,” Nick said. “You may not be queen of the city, but it’s clear you have clout here, and I’m sure Colonel Carter is a busy woman. If I was in your shoes, I’d want to know if the refugee I picked up was hiding something that might jeopardize security.”

Teyla smiled, relieved that he understood. “And are you?” she asked directly.

“I killed a few Latrians when I escaped,” he admitted. “Stole a few pieces of fruit and meat here and there. Anyone who offered me food and shelter for killing someone was someone I refused. Most places are hungry for someone who’s willing to work and can help defend against the Wraith.” He shrugged. “There’s a slave market on Serling.”

“There has always been a slave market on Serling,” Teyla agreed neutrally. “It is how they survive.”

“Wasn’t expecting it,” Nick said as calmly as he could. He hated having seen it; hated he’d been a product in it. “I knew it was a big marketplace, but I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Did no one on Yagur trade with Serling?”

“We did, but we always made them come to us. I never knew why until I was hired as a guard to a trader who frequented the marketplace and wanted more protection, so the slavers wouldn’t capture her. She was a Citholivian, a member of a society that traded and sold their people to whomever would pay, including the Wraith. Zenye told me she only knew of a dozen others of her kind left.”

“Why are you no longer working for her?”

“We were tricked by a merchant Zenye trusted, and the Serling police – well, they were willing to accept the payment for our release from the highest bidder.”

Teyla looked distressed. “That is usually the slavers on Serling.”

“Then you know how fucked up that place is,” Nick said, relieved he didn’t have to explain further. At Teyla’s nod, Nick continued, “The Latrians bought us from the slavers. We were exotic enough to warrant their attention – a Yagurian and a Citholivian, traveling together.” He grimaced at the memory. “The slavers wanted to get rid of me quickly, since I kept fighting to get myself and Zenye free, so they sold us to the first buyers who’d take us as a set. The Latrians had advertised they wanted their merchandise to be as damage-free as possible, so we lucked out and were only in the slavers’ hold for three days instead of months like I’d feared.”

“I fear your answer to this, but I must ask. What happened to Zenye?”

“She’s dead,” Nick said flatly. “The Latrians tested her first for the blood of the Ancestors and killed her. They tried taking my sword from me and learned what the slavers learned – the only way to take my sword from me is if I’m unconscious or dead.”

The look Teyla gave him was full of sympathy, causing the grief he had not allowed himself to feel to rise. He drew in a deep breath, willing back the tears. He did not want to let himself cry in front of strangers.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Teyla said. “And glad you were strong and skilled enough to defend yourself.”

Teyla sounded as though she meant it. Nick drew strength from that and met her gaze. She was an oasis of calm, and he liked her for it. “Thanks.”

She smiled, understanding. “I will let you be. Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy your stay here. If you have questions, please use the citywide communication system to page me,” she told him, gesturing to the speaker box with a switch that sat on his desk. “I hope to see you in an hour.”

“See you then.”

She nodded, then left.

For a few minutes, Nick let himself remember Zenye, let himself grieve for her. She had been the closest thing he’d had to a friend for the better part of a year. He let the desire for revenge on the Latrians burn through him before reminding himself how many ways he had learned how such a thirst could kill. If he had not been immortal, he would have been dead, trying to avenge the death of his ex-wife. If he had not been immortal, he would have died in the hands of the slavers, fighting to get free; they had been shocked at his strength and willingness to fight. With a sigh, Nick forced himself to concentrate on the here and now.

He was alive. He had a roof over his head, his sword, running water, access to food, and, for the moment, no one was hunting him. Added to that was that any Wraith would have to go through undoubtedly some serious resistance courtesy of the international military force before they got to him. He was as safe as safe could get in this galaxy. Whether the military force allowed him to return to Earth soon was a mystery. Worrying about when that would happen was borrowing trouble, Nick decided.

Stripping off his borrowed sweatshirt and sweatpants, he stepped into the adjoining bathroom. He showered, relishing the feel of being clean after so long on the run, then shaved. Someone had gone through his leather pack, rearranging the contents, refolding his spare clothing, and scrubbing the interior and exterior of the pack clean. His driver’s license and passport were both in their secret pocket, but backwards from the way Nick had put them in. Picking up one of his tunics, Nick was surprised to find it smelled clean. The military team’s attention to detail impressed Nick. Washing his clothes and his pack meant they weren’t taking chances he brought anything harmful with him, bacteria or otherwise.

Opening the closet, Nick found new underwear, socks, a handful of t-shirts in basic colors and in two sleeve lengths, a zip-up fleece jacket, and a pair of jeans. It made him wonder just how often the city took in refugees they would have a choice of civilian clothing – or if they’d suffered enough losses they had clothing to spare. For a moment, he wondered how dangerous the city was likely to be. For a moment, he hesitated, torn between wearing what was his and the offered clothing. He compromised, putting on a short-sleeve blue t-shirt under an embroidered tunic vest his late fiancée had made, and trying on the jeans. He was not surprised to find the jeans fit. Putting cushioned socks on his feet felt novel and decadent – the socks he’d been able to find were thin, hand-knit things, not mass-machined. After a moment’s hesitation, he took off the socks; his boots wouldn’t fit with such thick material.

Slipping on his well-worn leather boots, he then strapped on his sword sheath and put on his sword. Being in Earth clothes again felt alien, even though he had been in them several hours now. Looking in the mirror, he didn’t quite know the man who looked back at him. His hair needed cutting again, and the embroidered vest tunic looked out of place with such modern clothes. Grimacing at his vanity, he threaded his belt through the loops of the jeans, and strapped on his sword, feeling at ease once he had done so.

His sword had been a constant in his life long before he had touched the crystal that had brought him here, and the familiar weight reassured him. He had hung on to that sword, its custom sheath, sword belt, and his leather pack with all his belongings despite being captured by slavers, who had seen the weapon and his leather pack and thought they only added to his resale value. He had adapted, survived. Whatever came next would be no different.

For a moment, he wondered if he would meet the man who’d blocked his way to the dialer for the Ring. Even weakened by hunger and by his body’s need to heal itself, the stranger had genuinely intrigued Nick. Though he preferred women, Nick had long ago learned he enjoyed sharing pleasure with other men. A brief smile flitted across his lips as he remembered several memorable nights sharing lovers with Amanda. He let the old ache of missing her fill him before he sighed with regret.

 _She wouldn’t judge me for the things I’ve done to keep my head on my shoulders,_ he thought. _The military people here will, unless Teyla enlightened them as to what kind of currency some communities here use. Whoever the guy who blocked my access to the Ring of the Ancestors is, he’s part of a special team – and that means my chances of getting laid are zero, especially since the US military is homophobic. I need to focus on getting home, not sex. That means making friends, not enemies._

Nick took a deep breath, then straightened his posture and headed out to the classroom. He was not too surprised when, a few hallways later, he heard a British voice he recognized as Sergeant Peters say cheerfully, “This way, mate.”

After attending Teyla’s class, which told him nothing new but offered him the chance to share what he did know, it didn’t take long for Nick to figure out where he could go. The transporter simply refused to let him go anywhere he wasn’t allowed; doors remained stubbornly shut when he tried to access them. That meant the military team had ways of locking out even people with the blood of the Ancients in them. After an hour of frustration, Nick made his way out to the main pier and stared out at the ocean.

Even though it had been less than a day since he had been brought to the City of the Ancients, the lack of information on when Nick could either go back to Earth or be let go was wearing on him. Asking Teyla had only resulted in her telling him to be patient; his desire was known to the people in charge. Nick needed to know where he was going so he could plan his life. His plan, post-Latria, was to find a safe world where his skills as a swordsman or farm hand could be used. If that place wasn’t here, he needed to ask where he could go. Solteria was out; that left six other gate addresses as possibilities. If they were all known to the people running this city, then it made sense they would also know if they were safe worlds.

 _I hate not knowing,_ Nick thought. _I haven’t seen Colonel Carter or Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard since last night. Which means I’m being tested to see if I’ll do something stupid. Wonder how long it’ll be before a guard shows up?_

Nick didn’t have long to wait. Sergeant Childe showed up fifteen minutes later. “I wouldn’t recommend going for a swim.”

“Too cold?” Nick asked.

“That, and we’ve identified a bunch of Jurassic-sized marine animals, including what the biologists call this planet’s version of megalodon sharks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nick told him. “Just – haven’t spent that much time inside last few years. Do you guys eat the fish?”

Sergeant Childe nodded understanding. “Some of them, yes. The kind we get the most resembles a cross between bass and marlin - meaty but a fighter. The Marines have a running contest to see who falls in the water first when they fish for it. You fish?”

“Not as recreation. Living in this galaxy taught me a lot of skills I never thought I’d know.”

Sergeant Childe chuckled. “I can see where that can happen.”

Nick studied him, reading concern mixed with obligation. “Guess I should go back inside now, huh?”

“It would make me feel better, sir. No one’s been hurt yet, but I’d prefer if I didn’t have to explain to Colonel Carter or Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard how you wound up in the ocean and had to be rescued.”

Nick took a last look at the pier. “Any objections if I wanted to exercise out here?

“Not that I’m aware of, sir, as long as you stayed away from the edge.”

Nick nodded his assent and followed the soldier back inside. _Time to see if I can impress someone_ , he thought. _And maybe calm my nerves. Been a long time since I had no one to guard and nothing to do with my time; it’s making me jittery and weird and I can’t stand the thoughts going through my head. Maybe if I eat something familiar, watch something, then exercise, I might feel better._

Decision made, he asked Sergeant Childe, “Is the mess hall open all day?”

“Not the hot food line, but the cooks usually set out snacks and fruit so people can grab something without having to ask.”

“If I wanted to watch a DVD other than what Colonel Sheppard’s already given me, do I have to ask him or do you have a central library?”

“I can show you where the library is; it’s not far from the mess hall,” the military police officer said, and took Nick there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!


	4. Chapter 4

_Friday, 07:15 AM_

John ran through the city, chasing Ronon, who, as usual, refused to shorten his stride. PX3-156 had been uneventful but productive – another successful day on the job of making sure the people of Atlantis did not starve and had allies. John was not thinking too deeply about anything but the challenge of catching up to Ronon. This morning’s run had taken them through two of the city’s uninhabited towers and finally down towards the pier.

“Come on, Sheppard,” Ronon called. “You’re getting slow.”

John chuckled, but he knew he was not keeping up with Ronon. John wasn’t the long-distance endurance runner Ronon was. He’d thought he was more than good enough to meet Air Force regulations. Ronon, however, reminded him constantly that “good enough to meet regulations” wasn’t enough to survive the conditions in this galaxy.

He finally caught up to Ronon when the other man had stopped to watch something on the main pier.

“Tired already?” John joked.

“No,” Ronon said, gesturing to the scene before them. “I have not seen anyone do this since before I left Sateda.”

Confused, John looked to where Ronon was pointing. John took a moment to see what had captured Ronon’s attention, and a moment longer to recognize the figure dancing on the pier. Sunrise painted the pier in shadows, but it was light enough to see who stood on it.

Nick wore a pair of sweatpants, and a thin, long-sleeved shirt; a fine sheen of sweat stained the fabric, emphasizing his well-defined muscles. His feet were bare, but it didn’t seem to matter. No music played, yet Nick followed the beat of an invisible drummer. John had not seen anyone combine belly dancing with sword katas. He had never expected a man to be so fluid in doing so. It was stunning and sensual and – given that Nick was using both his sword and the dagger they had found he’d secreted in his pack – potentially deadly.

John glanced over at Ronon. From the intent way Ronon was watching Nick, John had the sense that something more was going on than simple fascination for a skilled martial artist. “You’ve seen this before?”

Ronon nodded. “Something similar, though not with any weapons. There was a performing troupe of dancers who danced like he does.” Ronon paused, clarified. “Whores. Thought no one could turn that into sword movements.” Admiration colored his voice.

John studied the scene a moment longer. Like Ronon, he was a man who appreciated deadly beauty and military skill, yet neither quality answered the question that had formed in John’s mind. Tapping his headset, he asked quietly, “Control, this is Sheppard. Would you access the security logs for the pier and let me know how long Mr. Wolfe has been here?”

“One moment, sir,” a female voice John recognized as Specialist Cano replied.

He waited patiently.

“Since 0500, sir. He did this yesterday afternoon, too.”

John glanced at his watch. “Thank you, Specialist Cano.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day, sir.”

John switched off the communication channel and turned to Ronon. “He’s been at this for two hours.”

Ronon considered this. “He’s moving good for someone who fainted three days ago.”

“Maybe he’s like you and Teyla,” John suggested. “Fast healer.”

Ronon considered it. “Want me to ask him?”

John grinned at the thought. “No.” Ronon tended not to ask questions so much as demand answers. Instinct told John that Nick was not the type to give answers if he was pushed into a corner.

Ronon looked at Nick, then at John. “I’ll play nice,” Ronon offered.

“Nice as in you won’t kill him, or nice as in you won’t hurt him at all?”

Ronon shot John a peeved look, irritated by the question. “Is he offending you with his dancing?”

“No.”

“Good,” Ronon declared. The way he said the single word gave John pause. From what Ronon had said about Satedan culture, bisexuality and homosexuality were not the taboos they were on Earth but were accepted as normal, even encouraged as part of growing up and figuring out who they were. John was grateful that the prevailing attitude on Atlantis was one of general acceptance, fostered largely because of Elizabeth Weir’s insistence that as an international operation, they had to be open and welcoming to all types of sexuality and culture. It had resulted in no one caring what people did as long as the people involved did not indulge in explicit public displays of affection, and any personal dramas took a backstage to the overall mission. Still, Atlantis was a small town: everyone knew Ronon wasn’t straight.

John didn’t think Nick was someone to fear. His brief conversation with him on Tuesday night had reinforced a sense of someone who had done what he could to survive in this galaxy. Teyla’s interaction with him on Wednesday and her report on him had also gone a long way to reassuring John. The lack of confirmation from Stargate Command that Nick was someone who belonged back on Earth didn’t bother John. John agreed with Sam; there would be no reason to have, let alone fake, a US passport or a French driver’s license here in this galaxy. Aside from that fact, John had made gut-instinct decisions on far less data. Still, if Nick had been willing to flirt with Ronon to get sanctuary, how far would he be willing to go to get through the Gate to Earth? The years in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught John to trust but verify.

“Be careful,” John warned quietly as Ronon started toward Nick. “He may be doing this just to see if it will get him where he wants to go, and that’s not happening for several days yet.”

Ronon paused, nodded once without turning around, and then continued.

* * *

A whisper of movement brought Nick to block instinctively. He found his sword blade blocked by one wielded by the handsome, dark-skinned man who had blocked his access to the Gate on Solteria. Amused green eyes met his. Excitement rippled through Nick, along with the surge of adrenaline that came from the unexpected attack. The stranger projected the kind of energy and power that had always attracted Nick.

As if aware of Nick’s thoughts, the stranger grinned wolfishly, then parried and attacked. Going on instinct, Nick countered, and began his siege.

For the first time in several months, Nick found his skill well and truly tested. Enjoying the challenge, Nick put more effort into the fight, using every trick he knew. He had the fleeting thought Amanda would be proud of him. His opponent fought with a purity of focus and competent skill, but Nick had learned his sword-fighting lessons from a mistress of survival.

Recognizing the other man’s interest in him, Nick took advantage, flirting between parries, striking with unexpected blows when the coquetry distracted his opponent. He had to tamp down the skittering of his pulse, thinking about how close he was brushing up against his handsome opponent in his attempts to gain an advantage. Caught in the fight’s glory, Nick barely noticed when his opponent’s blade sliced his right side. Swearing, aware that he had to end the battle quickly before his opponent noticed how he healed, Nick moved to disarm his opponent, sending his opponent’s sword flying to land farther down the pier. Without hesitation, Nick got his opponent on his knees, stopping short of a decapitating blow.

“Do you yield?” Nick asked.

The stranger nodded as he tried to regain his breath. His bearded face was expressive, and Nick read appreciation for his skill. Nick stepped back cautiously, too aware that his opponent could trick him.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Nick said, breathing heavily, and enjoying the sensual pulse humming through his blood. It had been far too long since he’d had the thrill of desire mixed with his sword fighting and wondered how this would turn out. Part of him knew he was playing with fire for wanting it to end in him getting laid and wanted it anyway.

“Ronon Dex,” his opponent introduced himself with a nod as he stood carefully. Moving away, Ronon picked up his sword from where Nick had tossed it. Easily, Ronon sheathed his sword and returned to where Nick stood. “You fight well.”

“As do you,” Nick returned honestly, sheathing his sword, and sticking his dagger in its pocket on the belt of his sword sheath.

“Be back,” Ronon told him. He then walked over to where Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard stood, waiting just beyond where the pier met the dock, out of earshot.

Nick watched him go, admiring the way Ronon moved even as he was silently grateful for the small reprieve. Now that the battle was over, Nick could feel the tingle of immortal healing stitching up the wound in his side and needed to check to make sure the cut hadn’t sliced his shirt. One glance told him he had, but it could be easily hidden if he didn’t move his left arm.

* * *

John had watched the entire battle. He was torn between amusement and admiration. He was half-aroused from the way Nick had showed just how a man who danced could fight – and fight using every weapon at his arsenal. It had been enlightening to see someone poke holes in Ronon’s usually solid tactics.

“Damn, Ronon, I’ve never seen a fight like that,” he told Ronon as he walked up. “You know it’s is going to make the rounds of all the computers in Atlantis.”

Ronon grinned. “Guess that just means I’ll have to prove I can kick ass later.”

“What now?” John asked. He knew what he’d watched was one of the most erotic fights he’d ever seen. If he’d been in that fight, John wasn’t certain he would refuse Nick’s invitation to share his bed. Only the thought that it could be a trap made John hesitate.

Ronon arched an eyebrow significantly. “You asking as my commander or my friend?”

John met Ronon’s gaze and chuckled humorlessly. Times like this, he realized that Ronon understood American military regulations and Earth customs well and preferred to feign ignorance because it made for a good disguise.

“I respect you either way. Damn it, Ronon, you know damn well those rules don’t apply to you.”

“Don’t they?”

“If they did, you’d be in the Atlantis uniform,” John said flatly. “You’re a civilian contractor.”

“And if your military decides they can’t trust me?”

John swore impatiently as Ronon continued to stare at him. “Most of those assholes are on the other side of the Stargate. Anyone here who gives you hell over what you do in your free time or who you do it with will answer to me, same as it’s always been. You’re still someone I’d want guarding my back any day. Hell, after seeing that fight, I’m tempted to ask Nick if he’d stay. We can always use someone who knows how things work here and can fight.”

Satisfied, Ronon relaxed. “You gonna make sure the guys know that?”

“Do I need to?” John returned evenly.

Ronon considered it. “Maybe. We’ll see who has a problem with me when they come to spar later.”

John nodded. “I’ll see how far the video of your fight has spread.” He headed off towards the central tower, paused, turned, then added, “But speaking as your friend, I’d feel better if you didn’t fuck him.”

“Why, you jealous?”

“No,” John replied honestly. “I trust you, but I don’t trust him. Not completely, not yet. He could have staged this just to get to you, the person most likely to get him access to where he wants to go.”

Ronon stared at him, acknowledging his point with a frustrated sigh. “Doesn’t mean I can’t get to know him as a friend,” he pointed out. “And if he’s taken out Wraith with those skills, he has nightmares he won’t be able to talk about once he’s through the Gate. What if what he needs is someone to celebrate that he’s alive to talk about it?”

John grimaced at the reminder. “Fine. Do what you want.”

Ronon grinned briefly, hearing the exasperated affection in John’s tone. Patting John’s shoulder, he said, “We need to find you a good lover, someone adventurous and strong.”

“Maybe someday,” John demurred. He started to head off towards the central tower, paused, turned, then added, “But do me a favor and be discreet?”

“Too late for that,” Ronon said as he looked at him like John had suggested the stupidest thing yet, then turned and walked away.

* * *

“You dance like a Dalyta,” Ronon said when he returned to where Nick was standing. “Did you learn from them?”

Nick shook his head. “Never heard of the Dalyta,” he admitted, intrigued.

Ronon grinned. “Probably a good thing. They were whores.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not,” he said flatly.

Ronon chuckled. “Didn’t think you were,” he replied easily. “You fight with more honor than a Dalyta fucks. Have you eaten?”

Nick smiled slowly. “Yes, but I could use a drink.” He paused, reconsidered a moment. “Unless doing so with me would get you in trouble with Colonel Sheppard.”

“No. I’m Satedan.”

“And who are you to Colonel Sheppard?” Nick asked cautiously. He’d heard of Sateda, but only as a story, a gate address for a trading partner now lost to the Wraith.

“His friend,” came the immediate answer. “His second on missions. Trainer to his combat squads here.” Pride and confidence showed through Ronon’s voice as he listed his responsibilities. “Anything he needs a gun pointed at, I’m his man.”

“I see,” Nick said. He thought he did, anyway. The military would need locals to help with cultural integration; Teyla and Ronon served that purpose. “Does he know you like men?”

Ronon smiled. “Yeah.” He gave Nick’s body a raking gaze as Nick’s pulse jolted. “You made it pretty clear you do.”

Nick chuckled. “Depends on the man.” He considered the one before him, calculated what they had told him, factored in the tear in his shirt, and sighed. Ronon was too skilled a swordsman not to know where he hit, and immortality was something Nick did not want to explain.

With a pang of regret, Nick added reluctantly, “But if this place is running on American military rules, they might decide they won’t let me through the Ring if you and I spend the day fucking. I’m sorry, but as much fun as I’m sure we’d be—” he cracked a smile, leered deliberately “—I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Ronon narrowed his eyes. “Nobody here cares who anyone fucks as long as they’re not having sex in the hallways.”

Surprised, Nick blurted, “What about your commander? Isn’t he American military?”

“Yeah, but he told me few people on Earth would understand the way life can be short here.”

Nick laughed ruefully at that, and met Ronon’s gaze, seeing mutual understanding.

“He thinks you’re dangerous. Are you working for someone?”

“No. My last employer died on Latria.” Nick grinned abruptly. “Of course, you realize you only have my word for it, and unless you want to go ask the Latrians, you can’t verify that.”

“Are you always this cautious?” Ronon asked.

“I didn’t used to be,” Nick confessed. “I used to be reckless and paranoid.”

Ronon half-chuckled. “Didn’t we all?” He closed the distance between them, close enough to kiss, making Nick vividly aware of his body. “If you change your mind before you go through the Gate, let me know.”

Ronon stepped back. “Offer still stands if you want join me for breakfast. I’m hungry.”

The look he shot Nick said that while food was an acceptable substitute, it was not Ronon’s first choice.

Nick smiled, controlling his response to Ronon only through sheer will. “Not that hungry,” he lied, and saw Ronon nod once, accepting his refusal, before turning and leaving.

Alone, Nick blew out a shaky breath. He was playing with fire. Ronon was precisely the kind of man Nick loved to have sex with: strong, skilled, and memorable. For one night, Nick wanted to celebrate the sheer joy of being alive, of having someone to talk to who could fight well with a sword, who wanted him. It had been too long since he had that pleasure. The last lover Nick had taken had been more than a year ago. Nick told himself he needed to be strong and focus on the end goal: getting the hell out of this galaxy, even if Earth meant the Game and discovering whether Amanda still loved him.

Nick couldn’t afford to fall in love with someone in this galaxy. He’d done so once already, and it had cost him everything he treasured as his world. Lust was easier to handle when Nick didn’t have time to contemplate whether it would come back to bite him. Already, he could see all the ways his desire for Ronon could cause him not going home – but oh, how he craved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering - the belly dancing sword play is based loosely on the fact that I've found numerous sword dancing videos on YouTube. My current favorite is: [Korean Two Sword Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9tkq1yzcg0).


	5. Chapter 5

_Friday, 6:15 PM_

Ronon stood nervously before the door to Nick’s quarters, trying to convince himself he had no reason to feel so anxious. He hadn’t been with another man in years; his last encounter had been a brief liaison with someone who wanted a night’s pleasure, nothing more. His last relationship, with Jennifer Keller, had crashed and burned, proving that while Ronon could find love with someone again, he needed someone who wasn’t a living parallel to his late fiancée. Nick had declared himself off-limits for valid reasons, even if they were ones Ronon didn’t agree with, and Ronon would be better off respecting them. It would mean less complication when Nick left.

Ronon prided himself on being a simple man, one who had learned the value of living in the moment. Since joining the Atlantis team, Ronon had let himself feel pleasure and happiness again, instead of focusing only on survival. Still, the memory of the morning’s fight and flirtation was enough motivation to want to see Nick again. Ronon told himself he deserved answers to where Nick had learned to fight and flirt so well, and he couldn’t discover what those answers were standing outside Nick’s door. Impatient with himself, Ronon pushed those thoughts aside, took a deep breath, stepped forward, and rapped on the door.

His knocking was rewarded when Nick opened the door.

Nick had changed his clothes, and now wore a shirt like the one he’d been wearing when they’d first met, jeans, and boots. He looked startled, but it did not escape Ronon’s notice that his sword was in his right hand.

“Expecting a fight?” Ronon asked. Appreciation for how the other man didn’t take his safety for granted ratcheted Ronon’s interest in him higher, even as Ronon assured him, “You’re safe here.”

Nick eyed him warily. “That why most everyone I’ve seen is armed?”

Ronon shrugged. He remembered how it had taken him months before he stopped carrying every single weapon he owned on him when he was in the city. He still refused to go anywhere without his blaster. “I’m the wrong person to ask about that. But Sheppard might object to you thinking you need something that big.” He showed Nick his blaster. “Long as you’re with me, you’ll be okay. This thing kills Wraith.”

“Haven’t left home without my sword in seven years,” Nick said. “Not going to start now.” He sheathed the sword with unthinking ease. “What brings you to my door?”

“Thought you might want some company for dinner. I know what it’s like to have everyone in the city staring at you.”

Nick hesitated. “I’ve had a few MPs casually following me all day, like I was stupid enough not to notice every time I turned around, someone just happened to be there. Was there a security video of us on the pier?”

Ronon grimaced. Rodney hadn’t succeeded at stopping the video from circulating through Atlantis. Whoever had been distributing it had been smart enough to keep it off the network. Given the proliferation of flash drives, there was little Rodney could do. He’d offered to threaten everyone with computer problems, but by the time he’d reported back to Ronon and Sheppard was happening, the damage was already done.

“I was hoping they would leave you alone.”

“Oh, other than some interesting looks, and Colonel Carter asking me where I learned to fight with a sword, I was left alone. Did they give you grief?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Ronon told him, and then closed the distance between them, giving in to the restless urge that had haunted him all day. Nick was handsome, a skilled warrior, and he was interested in Ronon. That was enough justification for Ronon. He wanted to feel Nick against his body, wanted to kiss him, so Ronon did.

The kiss took Nick by surprise. For a moment, he didn’t respond, leaving Ronon to fear he’d been wrong, that Nick meant nothing by flirting and everything by his refusal. Then he kissed Ronon back, his mouth gentle and just a whisper past chaste, as if he was holding back but couldn’t quite resist temptation. Emboldened, Ronon tried to deepen the kiss, but Nick held firm.

“I want you, but I don’t want to do this if this is going to blow up in my face and mean I don’t get to go anywhere, let alone back to Earth.”

Ronon grinned briefly, appreciating that Nick was resisting temptation. Had Nick let them fuck without talking, Ronon knew he would enjoy the pleasure, but be less inclined to advocate for his continued stay. Ronon had had no problems finding a lover; he preferred one who thought about what would happen after they sated their lust.

“It isn’t,” Ronon insisted. “Sheppard would ask you to stay if for some reason you couldn’t go back. He liked your fighting skills and you’re an asset. You know what it’s like to live and fight here without Earth weapons and technology, but you know what those are so you can see where they can be used.” Ronon smiled charmingly. “Besides, my word counts for something around here.” 

Nick considered that info a moment. “In that case, let’s get out of this room. I like to get to know you first, and I’m hungry. Didn’t want to go the mess hall with everyone staring.”

“They’ll still stare, but now they’ll know you’re with me,” Ronon agreed, accepting the delay. He gestured Nick towards the hallway, and they walked towards the mess hall. “They won’t be as likely to bother you with questions.”

“Appreciate that,” Nick said. “It must feel like a small village here. How many people are here?”

“A couple hundred,” Ronon hedged, unwilling to give him an exact number. “Enough to defend the city.”

“Spoken like a man who knows security,” Nick said appreciatively. “I spent ten years in law enforcement before moving to Paris.”

“For a city or for a bigger agency? Sheppard explained to me that on Earth, you have many different police that don’t all report to one head agency. On Sateda, all of the city guards were part of the Satedan government.”

“For a city of about 50,000 people,” Nick replied, looking surprised that Ronon knew about how Earth police forces were organized. “Most of my cases involved high-value thefts or homicides.”

Ronon grimaced. Sateda had its share of crime, but nothing like what he had heard happened on Earth. “Were you good at it?”

“I thought so; I did well enough to be promoted several times, and I enjoyed being able to help make justice happen.” Nick shrugged. “I did it for ten years and got disillusioned, so I left that city and moved to Paris.”

“Are you finding enough to do here?” Ronon wondered.

“I’d forgotten what it’s like to just have time to sit and read or watch a movie,” Nick admitted. “Do you get much of a chance to do so?”

“Sometimes,” Ronon admitted. “‘I don’t like to sit around and do nothing. I don’t always understand the Earth references in the movies, but I’m getting better.”

Nick chuckled. “Sometimes I don’t, either. I was trying to watch a movie earlier today and realized I didn’t have American pop culture references anymore. I spent five years in Paris – I was even starting to think in French.” He laughed again. “My first words on Yagur were in French. No one understood me.”

“I can imagine. They taught me how to read English, and I still get it confused sometimes.”

“Satedan that much different?”

“Different enough,” Ronon agreed. “I never was much of a reader, anyway. I was raised to be a soldier; I just wanted to know enough so I could understand strategy.”

Nick smiled. “I was going to play football. Had a scholarship to Stanford, one of the top-ranked American universities, until I blew out my knee.”

Ronon chuckled. “Don’t tell Sheppard that. He loves the game.”

“Something I’ve wondered – are there worlds where there are universities and places for higher education? Aside from the Genii and Serling, that is. Serling was where only the rich and well-connected got to go to school. I know the Genii don’t allow outsiders to attend their schools.”

“A few,” Ronon told him. “Not all of them want to be contacted for fear of bringing the Wraith upon them.”

“I can understand why. Do Colonel Carter and Colonel Sheppard rely on you to tell them where to go get things they can’t get here?”

“Some, not as much as I initially thought they would. If you have recent information about Serling or another marketplace, I’m sure they’d love to hear it.”

A few steps brought them towards a transporter, which was already occupied by two women chatting about something on a tablet one of them held.

“Evening,” Ronon greeted cordially as he and Nick stepped inside the transporter. Automatically, he checked the destination of the transporter, pressing the button for the level where the mess hall was.

The two women glanced up from the tablet. “Evening,” one of them returned, and then her eyes widened at the sight of Nick. Quickly, she hid the tablet’s screen by pulling it close to her body and changed the conversation.

Nick noticed, but said nothing, and made Ronon wonder what was going through his mind. He leaned against the wall of the transporter, making Ronon remember how he’d danced, and making him wish they were alone. Nick caught his gaze and smiled flirtatiously.

It didn’t take them long to get to the mess hall. Nick seemed content to wait to speak until they’d both gotten servings of meat stew and beverages and found a table on the far end of the mess hall.

“So how long have you been here?” Nick wondered.

“Five years, give or take,” Ronon said. “I was a Runner before that.”

“Runner?” Nick asked.

“The Wraith captured me. When they didn’t feed on me, I thought I’d gotten lucky. Then I discovered they put a transmitter in me and set me free so that they could hunt me.”

Nick shuddered. “Target practice?”

“And to see if I would run somewhere they hadn’t fed on yet,” Ronon agreed. “Didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on; started going to worlds I knew weren’t full of people.” He took a bite of stew. “How did you manage not to get caught in the culling on Yagur?”

“Luck, I guess. I was on Belthan when Yagur was culled. I wasn’t even gone half a day.” Nick shook his head. “I was spared because I was getting fabric for Kellia’s dress.” He chuckled dryly. “Story of my life: if it wasn’t for a woman, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Was Kellia your wife?”

Nick half-shrugged. “That was supposed to be the plan.” He tasted the stew and, after a moment’s consideration, ate.

“Arranged marriage?” Ronon asked.

Nick nodded. “The Elder thought that it would please the Ancestors.”

Ronon snorted. “By forcing you to marry someone?”

“She wasn’t a hardship, and she was pretty, kind, and made me laugh,” Nick countered, offended. “If I’d felt forced, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it. Wouldn’t have been trading for the material for her wedding dress.”

Ronon studied him a moment. “You left someone you loved back on Earth.”

Nick jerked in surprise. “That obvious?”

“You didn’t say you were in love with Kellia.”

Nick moved his shoulders restlessly. “I was fond of her and figured that was enough to grow into something, given enough time.” He let out a breath and met Ronon’s gaze. “Have you ever been married?”

“Close enough,” Ronon returned, unwilling to discuss his late fiancée. “Did you believe the Yagurians about the Ancestors?”

“Not really, but–” Nick shrugged, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, “—stranger things have happened. I never realized how lucky we’d been on Yagur, how much technology we did have, until I left. I fought my way through a culling once on this planet where having a sword seemed to be height of technology.”

“Lots of places like that,” Ronon said. “Place gets culled down to nothing, and no one remembers how to work the machines anymore.”

“What gets me is the people who think that worshipping the Wraith will save them,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand it.”

“If they help the Wraith, they might get rewarded with eternal life,” Ronon explained, hating the way the words drug up the memory of his former teammates.

“How does that work?” Nick frowned.

“The Wraith feed enough on you just enough that you don’t age,” Ronon explained.

Nick shuddered. “That sounds incredibly terrifying and painful. And then what?” he asked. “What if the Wraith that saved them decides to take it back? Or hell, gets hungry? Is it specific to just that Wraith or can some other Wraith decide they’re not useful anymore?”

“Some other Wraith could undo it, yes,” Ronon said, enjoying Nick’s assessment.

Nick shook his head. “Seems incredibly stupid. You’re gambling that the Wraith who gave you that gift won’t want you to do something even worse for them in exchange, and you have no guarantee your extended lifeline will be any longer than it would’ve been without that so-called gift.”

Ronon grinned, liking Nick more. “My thoughts exactly. Who did you leave behind on Earth?”

“Someone who – if she’s still alive – deserves to know I didn’t just get tired of her and vanish. She drove me crazy with the ways she turned my life upside down, but she doesn’t deserve more years of worry.”

Ronon half-smiled, hearing the affection that overrode the annoyance. “She your wife?”

“No.” Emotion too deep to be named colored the simple word.

 _Not a wife, more likely a lover, probably a friend, and maybe sometimes an enemy,_ Ronon deduced. Whatever she was, she had to be something special to be a driving force behind Nick’s desire to return. “Do you miss her?”

Nick considered the question. “Not as much as I did at first. After it sunk in that I wouldn’t be able to go back to Earth, I considered that part of my life over and tried my best to move on. Marrying Kellia was supposed to be part of that. I really figured I’d spend the rest of my life on Yagur.”

“What did you do before you came to Yagur?”

Nick smiled briefly. “Ran a bar – actually, a dance club – in Paris with my-then girlfriend and business partner, Amanda.”

Surprised by that admission, Ronon leaned in slightly, intrigued. “I thought you said you were in law enforcement.”

Nick barked a laugh. “Yeah, well, I was, and then I wasn’t. It’s a long story, but I can tell you it’s Amanda’s fault.”

“Is she the person you left behind?”

Nodding, Nick said, “She’s the reason I picked up the transport crystal in the first place. It was in her storage room, and I thought it was so pretty and unusual.”

“How long were you together?”

“Five years. She taught me a lot about what it means to love someone and still have room in your heart for someone else.”

Ronon looked at him, impressed. “Wouldn’t you get jealous?”

Nick laughed ruefully. “I did, repeatedly, at first. Then I realized I was being ridiculous and driving myself insane over an emotion that had no place in a healthy relationship. Either I loved and trusted her, or I didn’t.” He shook his head. “But enough about me and Amanda. How did you end up captured by the Wraith, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ronon shrugged. “The Wraith attacked Sateda. We’d gotten big enough, strong enough, that we thought we were ready enough to defend against everything the Wraith could bring. We weren’t. A lot of people died.”

“And you became a Runner,” Nick surmised. He leaned forward. “How did you manage to live, knowing anyone who helped you could be a target?”

“Hunted for my food, ate a lot of stuff that I never thought I’d eat outside of survival training and some stuff I had no idea what they were, threw up a lot, and did my best to not repeat mistakes. Runners get extended life, too; the Wraith want to be sure you survive long enough for them to play their game. I heal a lot faster than I did before they captured me.”

Nick met his gaze, clearly impressed. “Sounds like your world got upended. The first time my world got turned upside down like that, I found the nearest bar and started drinking.”

That caught Ronon’s attention. “Getting transported to a strange planet wasn’t the first time you had to adjust to something that big?”

“No, I…I found out something was true that I thought was a myth. I used to be a believer in things being very black and white.” He chuckled ruefully. “Like I imagine you thought you were either against the Wraith or you were one of them.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Nick smiled briefly. “Got better evidence. So how did you meet up with Colonel Sheppard?”

Ronon grinned wolfishly. “Took him and Teyla prisoner. They convinced me to let them go by taking out the tracking transmitter in my back.”

Nick blinked. “And they didn’t lock you up?”

Ronon chuckled. “Sheppard put me in the same room you’re in now. Had me shadowed by MPs everywhere I went. Then he showed me what Sateda was, now – nothing but ruins. Asked me if I’d be interested in staying and training his men to fight the Wraith better.”

“Obviously, you said yes, since you’re still here.” He paused. “Did anyone from your world survive?”

“About three hundred,” Ronon returned. “They’re scattered across the galaxy. No one I’d go looking for. This is home, and you’re more interesting.”

Nick chuckled. “I doubt that.” He ate more of his stew and took a drink of water. “You probably were briefed on me before you came to my door. Tell me, does everyone in the city know who I am?”

“No,” Ronon said bluntly. “I’m part of Colonel Sheppard’s team, and as part of that, I was briefed. The rest of the city knows you as a refugee. You wield a sword like no one I’ve seen in years. I appreciate a man who knows his weapons. I know enough of Earth police forces to know you didn’t need to use a sword. I would love to know who taught you and why.”

“Amanda, my partner in the dance club, did,” Nick told him. “She had a deep interest in medieval weapons. She kicked my ass, and then when I thought we were done, turned me over to two friends of hers — man and a woman — who also kicked my ass and proved to me I had actually learned more than I’d first thought.” He chuckled softly at the memory. “It was important to her. I loved her and wanted to be able to protect her, so I learned.”

Ronon grinned. “Sounds like she didn’t need a protector.”

“No,” Nick agreed, returning the grin. “I’ve been grateful for her tenacity and skill in teaching me many times. Did your culture teach you?”

Ronon nodded. “Swords were considered traditional battle weapons. If your blaster ran out of charge, you could always decapitate a Wraith or another enemy.” He paused, debating where he wanted to go with their conversation while keeping it from touching too deeply on things that would derail his intent. Ronon wanted Nick in his bed tonight, but he also wanted to know what Nick’s experiences were. Talking to a lover was something Ronon treasured; it meant they were doing more than just being two bodies slaking a hunger. Intelligence had always been sexy to Ronon.

“I’d love to hear you talk about the places you’ve been to here in this galaxy.”

“If I never have to milk a sylwen again, it’ll be too soon,” Nick replied immediately.

Ronon laughed. “How come?”

“Damn things always made me sneeze. Don’t get me started on how I learned to hate the cheese we made. I liked all kinds of cheese, especially for as many years I’ve spent in France, where they love cheese – but I’ll be grateful never to have sylwen cheese again.”

Ronon chuckled. “Yagurians made the best cheese in the galaxy. Why didn’t you like it?”

Nick shook his head. “It was awful,” he insisted, “until I got the milking machine working again and discovered I could read the ancient recipe someone had written. The way they had been making it without the machines was without feeding the sylwen a specific herb that made the cheese taste better.”

“Happens a lot here,” Ronon noted. “The Yagurians must have loved you.”

“The Elder thought I was a miracle worker. He’d been saying for years that the milk wasn’t right and nobody believed him. The herb that was used was not edible without being first processed by the sylwen.”

“Where else have you been?”

“Oh, there was the planet I walked through the gate, said hello to the people, and ten minutes later, the Wraith came,” Nick said, grimacing. “It was a toss-up as to who wanted to kill me faster before I could get out of there.”

“They probably thought you were a Runner.”

“That explains what they were shouting at me.” He shook his head. “Someone told me it wasn’t something I wanted to be but wouldn’t explain any more than that. Spent a few years just drifting, trying different Ring addresses, hoping that where I went was better than the last. It wasn’t always. Spent the better part of a year guarding a trader who worked the marketplace on Serling, selling some of the most beautiful scarves and blankets I’ve ever seen.” He was quiet a moment; his face reflected grief.

“Teyla told me you’d lost a friend; I’m sorry.”

Nick accepted the sympathy with a brief nod. “I think the thing that surprised me the most about this galaxy was how simple most people lived, despite the amazing technology of the Ancestors' Rings. It’s like there was this great civilization once and only a few societies managed to keep that going.”

“The Ancestors seeded this galaxy,” Ronon told him. “The Wraith caused their civilization to fall. They couldn’t defeat them.”

“All that technology and they couldn’t do it?” Nick blinked, surprised.

“You’ve seen the Wraith,” Ronon reminded him. “They have many hive ships. Blow up one and you’ll still find another.”

Nick grimaced at that. “The Wraith worshippers don’t help, either.” He let out a breath. “Have you been to the planet where the Ring is on a platform in the clouds, so high up you can’t see ground?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ronon agreed. “Scared me to death the first time. There’s actually a door and a set of stairs into a really cool pyramid if you know where to look.”

Nick shuddered. “Didn’t want to stick around to find out. I was just grateful no one was shooting at me or trying to eat me. How did you find out about the pyramid?”

“Sheppard wanted to find out what I meant, so we went.” Ronon paused. “How did you get to Serling? Most people avoid going there unless they have extremely specific things to sell or they hope to rescue someone.”

“Zenye hired me on Belthan,” Nick explained. “She was very secretive about a lot of things; it wasn’t her nature to warn me ahead of time. We argued a lot about how I could best protect her; took me two months to wear her down. If I’d known she wanted me to protect her on Serling, I probably would’ve refused.” He considered that a moment before amending ruefully, “And then demanded a higher fee to do it anyway. I’ve always hated seeing a woman in distress, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Ronon chuckled. “You can get into a lot of trouble that way.”

“Yeah, well, I never said I was perfect,” Nick admitted, leaning in closer. “Are men in distress your weakness?” He tried for a teasing tone.

Ronon grinned. “Only ones named Nick so far, and you aren’t in that condition anymore.” He had forgotten what it was like to flirt with someone like Nick: confident, self-aware, and strong. The interest Ronon had felt for Nick all day solidified into a warm current of desire. Ronon’s hands itched to take Nick out of his clothes and discover what lay underneath. “Do you prefer to be the one rescuing or being rescued?”

Nick inhaled sharply as he picked up the innuendo. His eyes glittered with both amusement and arousal. “Depends on the moment and the man,” he replied. “But generally I like taking what a guy can give me.” He took another breath, met Ronon’s gaze, and let Ronon see his desire mixed in with a worry he couldn’t hide. “How long will I be here? I asked Teyla and she didn’t know an exact date.”

“I asked Sheppard before I came to see you. He said it will be at least a week, likely two. Longer if the people on Earth drag out things. I’m sorry I can’t give you a more precise answer than that.” Ronon reached across the table and put his hand on Nick’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Way I see it, you have things you won’t be able to talk about to anyone once you go back to Earth. I’d like to spend whatever time you have here seeing what we can do together.”

Nick was quiet a moment as he considered Ronon’s offer. “Do you always pick up random strangers like this?”

Ronon laughed softly. “No. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. You?”

“Two years,” Nick replied. “No one important since my fiancée on Yagur.”

Sensing Nick was ready to go, Ronon gestured to the food on Nick’s plate. “Had enough?”

“For now,” Nick agreed. “Funny thing. I’m not hungry for mystery meat stew.” He met Ronon’s gaze boldly. The smoldering flame he saw in Nick’s eyes ignited his pulse, making him ache for Nick’s touch. Ronon had had all day to consider the ramifications of giving in to an impulse, all day to decide it wasn’t an impulse if he still wanted to give in hours later.

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

After dispensing with the remains of their meal, Ronon led the way to his quarters. The guest quarters, though closer to the mess hall, were on the security feed. Ronon had no desire to see this segment spread everywhere; he knew how the grapevine worked in Atlantis. To both his relief and frustration, Nick understood the need for discretion. He didn’t touch Ronon in the hallways and kept the conversation minimal.

Once safely inside Ronon’s quarters, Ronon looked at Nick, who stood in the center of the sparsely furnished room. For a moment, neither moved.

“Having second thoughts?” Ronon asked.

In reply, Nick pulled him closer and kissed him, hard. Ronon met his rough passion with equal measure, as if he’d been holding back too long. Desire flashed into a flame that seared Ronon’s blood and heated his groin. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to want like this. Nick pressed close, kissing him with an explosive hunger, and Ronon knew they weren’t going to last long this first time.

Nick’s hands roved over his body, exploring every inch of flesh as his tongue battled Ronon’s. Needing more, Ronon broke their kiss and dropped to his knees to work on the zipper of Nick’s jeans.

“Hold up,” Nick said, breathing heavily. “Let’s just get out of these.” He gestured to his clothes.

Ronon nodded, and they took the moment to hastily strip off the rest of their clothes, careful to put their weapons on the low chest that bordered the end of the bed. The brief break had cooled their ardor slightly, but the sight of Nick stretched out on his bed ignited Ronon’s once more.

Ronon moved to take Nick’s cock in his mouth, sucking as hard as he could, then backing off and diving down again, taking in a little more with each attempt until finally he had taken Nick’s entire length. Nick groaned, thrusting unconsciously into Ronon’s mouth. Ronon took his time, enjoying the taste of Nick’s cock, thrilling to the way the other man’s breathing quickened and his body shivered with passion. Nick’s hands were on Ronon’s head, his fingers sliding between the rolls of Ronon’s dreads, urging him on.

While his mouth was busy, Ronon used one hand to explore until he found what he was looking for. Using some saliva, Ronon moistened the small, tight opening, feeling the muscles there relax gradually until he finally slipped one finger inside.

“Oh, God, yes,” Nick groaned.

Emboldened, Ronon rotated his finger, feeling for that sensitive spot. He heard and felt Nick inhale sharply, groaning a heartbeat before he came.

Ronon swallowed carefully. He wanted more but wasn’t sure if Nick did. He got his answer when Nick pulled him upwards to thrust against him. Nick’s hands slid between them to stroke Ronon’s cock. Already turned on by Nick’s reaction to his efforts, Ronon shuddered against Nick’s body, thrust a few times, and came.

The night passed in a blur of desire interspersed with short stretches of sleep. It was nearly dawn before Ronon escorted Nick back to the guest quarters. If Ronon didn’t have a standing date to run with Sheppard before the mess hall opened for breakfast, Ronon knew he would have asked Nick to stay.

As it was, Ronon had a tough time saying goodbye. It had been years since he had had a lover he wanted for more than one night, who could match Ronon in strength, intelligence, and passion. Ronon wanted as much of Nick as the other man was willing to give. He wanted to spend another evening in a blur of passion; wanted to see what would happen if he took his time and let heat build between them. Would Nick beg for pleasure or would he take it from Ronon? Ronon had caught a glimpse of an odd-shaped tattoo on Nick’s left ass cheek and wanted to know the story behind it. He wanted to know what the strange mark over Nick’s heart meant; it looked like an old wound, likely lethal. He wanted to hear all Nick’s stories, wanted to know him more.

“Please say you’ll have dinner with me again tonight.”

Nick smiled. “What time?”

“1800. I’ll come find you.” Ronon kissed Nick one more time and forced himself to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback treasured!
> 
> ~~Next chapter will hopefully go up soon; I'm aiming for this thing to be a total of 10 chapters or so.~~


	6. Chapter 6

_Saturday, 09:00 AM_

The door to Nick’s quarters chimed. “Come in,” he called, looking up from the book he’d been reading, half-hoping his visitor was Ronon. One night of passion would not be enough, not when he’d found a lover as expressive and satisfying as Ronon. Being with him had reminded him how lonely his life had been. As much as he wanted to go back to Earth, Nick knew Ronon’s company would go a long way to making his last days in the Pegasus Galaxy memorable.

Nick was surprised to see Colonel Sheppard at his door. “Good morning,” he greeted. “Did I wake you?”

Nick shook his head and set aside the book. “I’ve been up a while; Ronon woke me and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Pustin, our staff psychologist, would like to speak to you about your experience here,” Colonel Sheppard explained. He looked apologetic. “If you’d rather not, you may end up having to do so to someone on Earth who has no clue what it’s like here.”

“And if I’d rather not talk to anyone at all?” Nick asked warily, sitting up straighter in his chair in unconscious reflex. “I don’t want to rehash everything I’ve had to do; it was hard enough to live through it. If you’ve been here any length of time, you know there’s stuff that happens here that wouldn’t make any sense on Earth.” He paused, remembering the choices he had had to make. “Or be legal or accepted in American culture.”

“I know,” Colonel Sheppard said quietly. The look on his face spoke volumes. “I’m not asking you to tell me where you were last night, how many Latrians you had to kill to escape, or how you kept yourself fed and clothed for seven years. I’m just asking you to go talk to Dr. Pustin. You can tell her nothing, if you like, but it’ll be easier to talk to her, since she knows about the Wraith, and you won’t have to resort calling them creepy space vampires.” The military commander met Nick’s gaze, hard-won knowledge reflected in his eyes. “It won’t stop the nightmares or the late-night what-ifs, but at least you can say you talked it out, which is better than keeping it bottled up where it can fester.”

Nick chuckled suddenly, realizing what the point of the exercise was. “Standard post-trauma psych evaluation? I used to get those after a particularly rough case when I was a detective – usually the really horrific homicides or the few times I’d had to fire my weapon on someone.”

Colonel Sheppard smiled. “Pretty much.”

Nick rose. “Some of the cops I worked with hated going to the shrink, didn’t think it was manly, but I thought it was just part of the process. If they didn’t want us to go crazy, they wouldn’t make it mandatory to go.” He glanced at the other man. “Is this part of the process where I prove I’m not insane, just unlucky?”

Colonel Sheppard shook his head. “If you don’t want to go, I can’t make you.”

“Nah, you make a good point. Be nice to talk to someone who knows what I’m talking about and offer suggestions on how to make it make sense.” Nick fell into step beside him as they walked through the hallway. “Out of curiosity, how long have you been here in this galaxy? That is, if that’s something you’re allowed to tell me, Colonel.”

“Six years, and make it Sheppard,” Colonel Sheppard told him. “Ronon’s been with us for five.”

Nick smiled. “He must’ve been pretty convincing if you decided to forgive him for what he did.”

“Easy to forgive a man who was a Runner for seven years,” John returned evenly. “Near as we can figure, that’s the longest anyone’s managed to survive as one.”

Nick whistled softly. “I managed to go from planet to planet selling my skills, then I found a job protecting Zenye. If I’d had the Wraith tracking me, that would eliminate over half the addresses I know.”

John nodded. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but we ran across a place he’d been to that had been inhabited. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Remind me, who’s Zenye?”

“She was my boss,” Nick said, realizing that wherever they were going was farther away from the residential quarters than he’d first suspected. “She hired me to protect her from the slavers on Serling. She was one of the traders in the marketplace; she specialized in fine scarves and blankets.” He drew in a deep breath. “She’s dead now.”

John looked at him. “Sorry to hear that.” He stepped up to a transporter, and Nick followed him inside. The doors shut and the unit moved. “How did it happen?”

“Latria,” Nick said flatly, and saw sympathy in John’s face.

“Did you ever try to teach anyone a sport from Earth?” John wondered.

Nick chuckled, grateful for the change of subject. “Thought about it. Couldn’t figure out how to make a basketball that would bounce properly, though, and there was no way I was going to try football. The Elder thought I was crazy, thought maybe I needed to get laid.”

John chuckled. “I’ve tried explaining football to Ronon and Teyla.”

“Did that go over well?”

“Not really,” John admitted. “But I keep trying. Ronon said you had a football scholarship?”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, not surprised Ronon had mentioned it to his commander, though Nick wondered when. Nick decided it must have been early; they had left Ronon’s quarters just before sunrise. “Made the wrong play one day and that was the end of it.”

“That sucks,” John commiserated.

“I healed well enough to play other sports, but the NFL scouts weren’t interested in me anymore, and that was the end of my college. My parents didn’t have the kind of money to keep me going to Stanford.” He shrugged. “I used to drive my girlfriend crazy wanting to pay attention to American football and basketball. She kept saying I should pay more attention to soccer, since we were in France. I told her until we became a sports bar, I wasn’t going to care which soccer team won.”

John grinned. “You ran a bar together?”

“Dance club,” Nick confirmed. “She inherited it, and then wanted to turn it into the hotspot in the city. It was challenging work, but we managed to do it. My sleep cycle was messed up for days when I landed in Yagur – I was used to staying up all night.”

“I can imagine. If you’re interested in catching up on football – or basketball, for that matter – I can get you some videos.”

“That would be great,” Nick agreed. “Be nice to catch up before I go back. Who’s your favorite football team?”

They continued to talk about sports until they arrived at the psychiatrist’s office.

“As much as I love sitting around and catching up on stuff I’ve missed,” Nick said, “is there anything I can do to be useful? I realize with all the soldiers you have, you probably don’t need a swordsman, but I can lift, build, and repair things.”

“Let me check with Colonel Carter,” the military commander hedged. “I don’t know where we can fit you in, and there are areas that are off-limits to non-authorized personnel.”

Not surprised by the qualifier, Nick nodded acceptance.

John smiled. “Why don’t we meet at 3:00 pm? I have some paperwork associated with your return I’ll need you to complete. After that, we can watch some football videos, unless you have somewhere else to be.”

“I’d like that,” Nick agreed readily. “Is it too much to hope the Chicago Bears did well anytime in the last seven years?”

John chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

Nick shrugged. “Eh, that’s what I get for rooting for a team since childhood. You get used to it.”

“And if I’d said yes?” John asked, curious.

Nick’s smile widened. “I’d probably say that’s what happens when you move far enough away that you forget you even have a team to root for.”

John laughed.

* * *

_Saturday, 10:30 AM_

At the knock on her office door, Sam looked up from the report she was reading. Seeing John there, she invited, “Come in.”

John shut the door behind him and sprawled in her guest chair. “You read the results from Dr. Putin?”

Sam nodded. “Her assessment is that Nick’s extremely resilient and, if the IOC or SGC decide not to allow him to go back to Earth, he’d do well here, helping us. He’s been to Serling; that’s a place we haven’t been yet.”

“Only because Teyla’s warned us it’s too dangerous,” John replied. “And I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable on a planet where slavery is part of the market. I’d be tempted to rescue somebody.”

Sam smiled ruefully. “You and me both. Psych eval aside – what’s your take on him?”

“He’s telling the truth,” John said, leaning forward. “And he’s hiding something, but I can’t figure out what.” John shrugged. “Could be as simple as the things he’s had to do to survive here; could be more.”

“That was my assessment as well. I saw the way he was practicing sword moves – that is not what I remember seeing from a Renaissance Fair. That’s someone who knows how to kill with a sword.”

“Could have a love of the art and gotten into it as a hobby,” John offered. “He told Ronon his girlfriend and business partner taught him. Seven years of selling that skill here would be enough to make him someone deadly with a sword.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated the idea. “Sounds plausible.”

“I’ll talk to him again this afternoon, see if he changes his story when he talks me again. If he used to be a cop, he’s going to know how to handle an interrogation.”

Sam nodded. “Then we won’t bother with one,” she decided. “Talk to him, but I’m more interested in proceeding as if he will be returning to Earth. At the least, get him to sign the non-disclosure form so we can use him fully if he chooses to stay or if the SGC won’t let him return.”

“What if we find out he’s a criminal back on Earth? Do we want to send him back to that life, knowing we could use him here?”

Sam considered the notion. “SGC will run a background check on him, but all that will tell us is the guy he was seven years ago. Nick doesn’t strike me as someone who’ll do well in whatever life he had then. Going to another planet changes you; fighting the Wraith even more so. If he was a criminal on Earth, it gave him added skills that have kept him alive here. If he wasn’t a criminal but a law-abiding owner of a dance club as he’s told us, then I really am impressed by how well he’s done here and would hate to see him go.”

John met her gaze. “That supposes Ronon isn’t enough incentive to stay. I’m not going to worry about it yet. We’re not scheduled to hear from SGC until Wednesday at the earliest.”

Sam leaned back in her chair. “Which means it’ll be another week, minimum, before SGC decides whether they want to bring Nick back or if they think he’s too knowledgeable about this galaxy to allow him back.”

“That,” John said, annoyed, “would suck. I’m pissed just thinking about having to tell him that shit. You get to tell him if that’s the case; I don’t want him holding it against me.”

Sam smiled ruefully. “You never like playing bad cop.”

“Yeah, because I want people to like me. I never asked for this command, but I never want to cede my position just to play politics. That’s what you’re here for.”

She acknowledged that with a slight nod. “You think Ronon’s smitten?”

“This morning’s the first morning in a long time Ronon wasn’t trying to push me to run faster,” John pointed out. “He told me yesterday that he wanted to be sure Nick’s status here wasn’t dependent on whatever relationship he had with him.”

Sam considered that a moment. “It might come down to that,” she warned John, “if we want to argue why we want to keep him.”

John grimaced, remembering how he had had to fight for Ronon and Teyla. “Let’s deal with that when that time comes,” he suggested. “In the meantime, I’m okay with keeping Nick’s access to what we have now and making sure he has an escort anytime he’s helping in a non-public area. That means he has no access to the Gate, the control room, or the chair room without an escort. It also means reminding Ronon he can’t escort Nick to any of those areas short of an emergency or on your orders or mine.”

“Agreed; I’ll talk to Ronon after this. I’ll also handle briefing Nick on what happens with him – whether he stays or goes.”

“He asked me if he could help us while he waits, said he can build and repair things. Do we want to use him on the work in the Northeast Tower?”

Sam considered. “That’s repairing the outer walls where the water keeps coming in, and the ceiling repair on the top floor. It would give him something to do and keep him out of the secure areas. By the time Captain Gareau and her team get to the ceiling repair, which is outside the dart launch pad, we’ll have a better sense of whether he can work.”

“And not ask too many nosy questions?” John offered with a smile. “An spy would know not to be obvious about things like that.”

“I doubt very much he’s a spy,” Sam noted dryly. “As do you.” She picked up her communicator.

“Captain Gareau, this is Colonel Carter, come in.”

“Colonel Carter, this is Captain Gareau, go ahead,” the French army officer responded.

“Could you use another pair of hands on your team? We have a refugee in need of something to do.”

“If it’s the gentleman who was exercising his sword and dancing skills on the pier, I don’t need either of those, ma’am. I need someone who won’t gag on the smell of the structural glue we’re using. I’m already down two people today.”

Sam winced. The Atlantean scientists had extensively analyzed the material that formed Atlantis and found it to be a bio-based polymer that mimicked the properties of steel. The polymer was as heavy as steel and just as supportive. Adhering any steel or cement to the polymer required an initial application of a glue compound that smelled like rotten fish. “Only one way to find out,” she told the captain. “I’ll have Sergeant Childe escort him to you. His name is Nick Wolfe. Please make sure he doesn’t access any areas without an escort, and he is not allowed near any restricted areas without either my permission or Colonel Sheppard’s.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, ma’am.”

To John, she asked, “What time did you want to see Nick?”

“1500 hours.”

To Captain Gareau, Sam said, “Please make sure Nick is escorted to Colonel Sheppard’s office at 1500 hours. Let me know if it turns out you can’t use him.”

“Will do, ma’am. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Carter out.”

Taking his cue, Sheppard touched his communicator and ordered Sergeant Childe to escort Nick to the Northeast Tower.

Relieved to have that matter discussed, John asked, “Did you want to figure out where we’re sending the repair teams next, provided they finish where they are? And what we need to get in terms of supplies?”

Nodding, Sam pulled up the map of the city on her tablet and they reviewed what were the next priorities in their maintaining the health of their people and reshoring of the city’s defenses.


	7. Chapter 7

At 3:00 pm, Sergeant Peters led Nick to John’s office. A pair of MPs guarded the entrance to the hallway, which was blocked by a highly ornate glass door. Once past the hallway, Sergeant Peters led the way past a few closed doors, then into a well-used office. A row of flags stood against the wall behind a large, burnished wood desk; Nick surmised they stood for the countries and military branches present in the city. A pair of laptops sat atop the desk, one open, the other closed, along with a tablet computer. Paperwork was stacked on one corner of the desk. The desk also held a model airplane and a few other personal touches.

John lounged in the chair behind the desk. He tossed a football back and forth between his hands. Seeing Sergeant Peters and Nick enter, he thanked and dismissed the military police officer, who promptly left the room. Nick caught sight of the soldier taking up guard position outside of the office, then the door to the office shut. Once the door shut, John tossed the football to Nick.

Startled, Nick caught it and tossed it back. John grabbed it neatly before it could sail over his desk and out of reach. “Have a seat,” John invited. He set the football down and leaned forward. “Did you enjoy helping Captain Gareau and her team?”

“I don’t think I’ll forget that smell anytime soon,” Nick noted. “But I’ve smelled worse. That stuff works like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

John nodded. “It means we can use stronger materials to reinforce the original structure, so I’m glad our scientists figured out what worked.” Briskly, he continued, “Now that you’ve been here a few days, I’ll ask again: do you want to go back? Seven years is a long time, and you may not have anything to go back to.”

“Amanda wouldn’t give up on me,” Nick said firmly. “She’d want to see my body before she believed I was dead.” He took a breath, meeting John’s concerned gaze. “If nothing else, I’d like to be able to tell her I didn’t vanish voluntarily or because I was pissed off at her. We were friends before we became lovers and partners. She’s extremely loyal to her friends, and there’s little she wouldn’t do to protect and defend them.” He chuckled ruefully. “Drove me a little crazy because I’m the same way.”

“And Ronon?”

“Sometimes you meet people and sparks happen,” Nick replied, unsurprised by the question. “Amanda and I had an open relationship. She’d be the first to tell me to enjoy myself.” He smiled, briefly wishing she could meet Ronon.

John studied Nick a moment. “If I offered you the chance to stay, be a part of my team here, would you?”

Nick’s breath caught, realizing how perceptive the other man was. “Ask me again before you open that Ancestor’s Ring to Earth,” he replied. “I might have a different answer then, depending on how long it’s been that I’ve been here.”

“Fair enough,” John allowed. “Either way, there’s some paperwork I need to go through with you.” He turned the tablet’s screen so Nick could see the title of the first form. The words “Standard Non-Disclosure Agreement for Priority Classified Information” were bold across the top of the form.

“Let me guess,” Nick said dryly, “no one on Earth knows you’re out here, fighting Wraith and everything else this galaxy has to offer, and you don’t want anyone to know that Mulder was partially right.”

John didn’t smile. “I doubt you frequented Renaissance Fairs,” he countered, “but that matters less to me than how you’ve handled yourself in the last seven years. You figured out how to make a life for yourself, and you fought against the Wraith and lived to tell the story. A less strong-willed individual might have shattered under that pressure. All I’m asking is that you keep this place secret. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nobody would believe me,” Nick pointed out. “Even people who live on planets where there are crumbling remains of tower cities like this one would think I’ve drunk too much; it’s too incredible to think that people from another galaxy are here. And if you were to let me go, let me continue finding my own way through this galaxy, I wouldn’t tell anyone willingly.” He met John’s eyes, and took a breath, remembering what he’d been told. “There are stories the Wraith can read minds.”

“They can,” John confirmed. “And they don’t ask permission, either.”

Nick flinched. “Fuck that shit. I’m not telling them either; they’d have to kill me first.”

“The Wraith know we’re here,” John pointed out. “But they’d love to know about the new, rich feeding grounds of Earth.”

Nick stared at him, horrified. “Earth has no defenses against that kind of attack, do they?”

John said nothing and let Nick draw his own conclusions.

“Fuck. Either you’re the last or the first line of defense. Either way, if the Wraith get past you, Earth is fucked,” Nick surmised. “Tell me what I can do to make sure that doesn’t happen. I swear on my sword I’ll do whatever it takes. I spent ten years upholding an oath to protect and serve as a police detective; I still believe in protecting people.”

“I believe you,” John assured him, “and if you were to stay, I’d take that oath. Trouble is the people I report to back on Earth like such promises documented.”

Nick held still, quickly assessing his options. He could refuse to sign, but something told him the military wouldn’t set up next to just any Ancestor’s Ring. If he refused, he would be stuck in this galaxy – free from the Game if no immortals joined the Earth contingent, but trapped, condemned to wonder when one would cross into this galaxy. “Where do I sign?”

Pleased by his response, John passed the tablet over to Nick. “You’ll probably have to fill this shit out twice if I know my commanders, but I figure if I can get this stuff in with our request to get you back home, you won’t be cooling your heels in some government office for as long.”

Nick scanned the data displayed on the screen, seeing the lengthy non-disclosure agreement; a form that reminded him of a Customs and Immigration Form about what things he was bringing back with him versus what he had brought with him; and a waiver of his right to sue for any damages done to his person while in another galaxy. There were a few other forms, including one confirming his identification details and giving a limited power of attorney over to something called the SGC on behalf of the US Government to renew anything that had expired and transfer a sum to be determined into a bank account, to be named later, for reestablishment expenses. Nick read that amount as ‘payoff for not telling anyone about this galaxy,’ and decided he could live with whatever they paid him, even if the sum was zero. Nothing seemed too outrageous, so Nick signed, initialed, and dated everything before passing the tablet back to John.

John flipped through the forms, making sure Nick had filled out everything, before countersigning the entire package. “Would you like us to notify your Amanda you’re coming back?”

Nick didn’t want whatever government entity running this operation finding Amanda; she would not react well. She was paranoid, and there were people out to get her. He loved her too much to do that to her, but even as his mind spun through possibilities, he realized he had the perfect opportunity. He had never told her how petrified and grief-stricken he had been when she had killed herself to prove immortality to him, certain she would not revive. Grinning, he told John, “Nah, it’ll be payback for all the times she scared me, doing crazy things.”

John’s eyebrows rose. “How so?”

Nick laughed, imagining the reunion. “Don’t know how much you know about ravens and wolves, but ravens play games with wolves, taunting them, teasing them, most always managing to escape. Ravens that don’t know how to play the game well, or meet a smart wolf, get eaten. Well, Amanda’s a raven, and I’m the wolf she chose to tease. For a long time, I thought she would always be pulling on my tail and seeing what I’d do, if I’d get angry or if I’d forgive her or both. Usually it was both; I couldn’t stay mad at her for long.”

“She sounds like an impressive woman.”

Nick heard a doubting note in the other man’s voice. “And strong, intelligent, charming, talented, and beautiful. I have a weakness for people who are all those things.” He studied John a moment, suspecting the other man wanted to know what he was doing with Ronon. “I know what I’m getting into with Ronon: someone to affirm the last seven years were worth everything I went through, someone to pass the time before I go home.”

“Does he?” John asked directly. “I haven’t seen him this interested in someone in a few years.”

“I can’t control how other people feel,” Nick returned evenly, sitting back in his chair. “Wouldn’t want to, either. I just know being with him last night went a long way towards me feeling like I could finally sleep without having to keep one eye open. I couldn’t sleep on Serling, worrying about whether that would be the night someone hurt my employer and friend. Then I couldn’t sleep on Latria, wondering what trick they were going to pull; everything seemed too good to be true. They tried to tell us they were rescuing us, but I didn’t believe a word. Not after being on Serling so long and hearing how many people thought they were escaping, only to find themselves in worse circumstances.”

“How did you get captured and sold to the Latrians?”

“Zenye trusted that the merchant who offered her an exclusive and large sale was a woman of her word, because she had done business with her before. I told her it seemed excessive, given the size of what we normally sold to her, but Zenye told me I was being too paranoid. The merchant refused to pay us her normal fee. When we protested, the Serling police arrested us. I don’t know how much you know about Serling, but if you’re arrested, the police will entertain the highest bidder for your release, which is usually the slavers.” He scowled at the memory. “Near as I can figure, the Latrians were looking for specific types of people, and were willing to pay for mint-condition merchandise, minus a few bruises here and there. I wouldn’t put it past that merchant to have been paid to be on the lookout for specific merchandise for the slavers. A lot of folks on Serling take bribes; it’s common to have to pay ‘handling charges’ for certain things.” Disgust at the practice filled Nick’s voice.

“And the Latrians made you feel like they had rescued you, until they showed you what they wanted you to die for,” John surmised.

Nick nodded. “If I never go back to either of those places, it’ll be too soon.” He paused. “But if you want information on how to do business on Serling or on a few of the other places I’ve been, I’d be happy to go over that with you or anyone else who needs to know.”

“Is there anything on Serling worth risking the trip?”

Nick met his gaze. “It’s the galaxy’s supermarket. Anything you want, anyone you want. It reminded me of some of the markets I read about existing in certain less principled countries.” He shrugged. “Parts of it were like the farmer’s markets I used to shop at in Paris; that never bothered me. Amanda insisted on teaching me how to haggle better.”

“How come?”

Nick chuckled ruefully. “Amanda insisted I was bitching too much about the prices of the shops in Paris and needed a reality check. She was right. I didn’t appreciate how much she taught me about haggling until I landed on Yagur. We traded sylwen milk and cheese for everything we didn’t make ourselves, which was mostly salt, herbs, and anything wood.”

“Yagur doesn’t have trees? I could’ve sworn our survey device showed trees.”

Nick shook his head. “The trees it has are poisonous and will kill you if you touch them.”

“Good to know,” John said. “Would you be interested in going back to Yagur? We’ve found on mostly-culled worlds, there’s usually a small group of survivors, wondering if anyone else survived.”

Nick shook his head. “I buried everyone I knew there who hadn’t been taken by the Wraith. I don’t see the point, but if you’re hoping to salvage shit they left behind and need a tour guide, sure.”

“We’ll let you know,” John assured him. He tapped the tablet, and announced, “Okay, that’s now in the queue to be sent with the other things we’re sending to Earth. I’ll let you know when I get confirmation of when we can send you back.”

“Appreciate everything you’re doing for me,” Nick said sincerely. “If I’m taking up too much of Ronon’s time, I can entertain myself.”

The military commander smiled. “He’ll be the one to tell you that, not me. He’s probably impatiently waiting for me to be done so you two can go to dinner.”

“You wouldn’t stretch this out just to make him wait, would you?”

“Do you want me to?” John countered. “I have the last Super Bowl queued and ready to go.”

Nick recognized mischief on the other man’s face. This man was not a stern commander, but someone who led from a position of knowing the people under his command and trusted them implicitly – and who was not above teasing them in friendship. “Better not. Something tells me he might not take it too kindly.”

“Oh, he’ll make me pay when we go running,” John agreed readily. “He knows I hate it, so he’ll make me run faster, longer.”

“Uphill most of the way?”

John laughed. “Something like that. Sergeant Peters is waiting for you outside; he’ll take you down to your quarters, give you time before Ronon picks you up.”

Nick looked at him, startled. “How much time?”

John glanced at his watch. “About an hour.” He smiled.

Nick studied him. “You really don’t mind my relationship with him?”

“He’s happy, and as long as he’s happy and this city remains safe, you and I don’t have any problems.”

Hearing the warning, Nick rose. “Thank you.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Have you been wrong about someone you rescued before?”

John looked at him with none of the casual, easy-going, friendly man he had been apparent in his body language. Nick froze as he realized he had underestimated the military commander. The man looking at him now was a stone-cold killer who would kill to protect his people.

“Yes,” John said, and left Nick with no doubt as to how that conversation would have gone.

Nick hastily took his cue. He did not want to face the other man in a fight and hoped he never would. Silently, he prayed he could go home without ever having to discuss immortality with John, especially after learning what the Wraith had done to Ronon. Nick knew the first thought the military commander would have would be that Nick had somehow aligned himself with the Wraith. After eleven years as an immortal, Nick still didn’t know what made him one. He had been relieved to know he hadn’t lost that. When he had figured out that going through the Ring made him pass out, he feared that his next destination would be the planet that took away his immortality. He had no desire to see if this expedition had the technology to make that happen – and resolved to do all he could to ensure he never got on John’s bad side.

* * *

  _Saturday, 7:00 PM_

“When we met, where were you hoping to go?” Ronon wondered after they had eaten dinner and were making their way to Ronon’s quarters.

“Besides back to Earth?” Nick asked. “Zenye gave me a list of addresses; places she had traveled to that were, last she knew, still populated, and looking for people who could either swing a sword or an axe and help.”

Ronon nodded. “You give that list to Teyla or Sheppard?”

“Yeah. Teyla said you knew about them. I didn’t ask whether that meant they were all dead addresses or places to avoid.”

Ronon chuckled. “I could check for you if you want.”

Nick shook his head. “Not until I know what’s going to happen to me. If I can’t go back to Earth, I think it would be easier to stay where I don’t have to explain what I’m doing and why I’m here. Strangers coming through the Ring of the Ancestors don’t always get a warm welcome. Plus, going through the Ring tends to make me pass out; it’s not something I want to do often.”

“You should eat before you go through; it’s easier if you’re not hungry, but don’t eat too much,” Ronon advised. “Took me a long time to learn that one.”  

“Huh. Hadn’t thought about that.” Nick followed Ronon into his quarters. “You ever think about leaving?”

“Sometimes,” Ronon admitted. “But I’d wonder about the people here and whether they’re safe. If my being here can help protect them, I was here and available, and I didn’t make it happen, that’s something I don’t want to have on my conscience.” He quirked a smile. “They’ve become family. But enough about them.” He drew Nick closer; Nick went willingly.

Ronon kissed Nick with deliberate intent. Wanting the same outcome, Nick kissed him back, letting the banked fire between them spark into a roaring blaze. Whatever plans Nick had for being the one in control went out the window when they were naked and he was on Ronon’s bed, under him. This time, Ronon was more tender than he had been the night before, as if they had sated his sheer lust, and tonight was more about figuring out just how far he could tease Nick before Nick pleaded for release. Ronon explored every inch of Nick’s body, mapping out the planes and contours with his tongue and hands, unrelenting in his quest to discover just what made Nick gasp, shudder, and swear. Nick had forgotten what it was like to know tender torment like this and to have the luxury of time, privacy, and space to indulge passion. He had gotten used to rougher conditions, to having a timer ticking in his head, to seeing sex as a transaction to get him what he needed. The soft sheets, comfortable bed, the lack of outside noise, and Ronon’s undivided attention and care combined to make Nick vividly aware of the man holding him, learning what made Nick cry out in pleasure. By the time Ronon slid his cock inside Nick’s ass, Nick’s world had narrowed to this room, this man, and the pleasure Ronon could give him. He thought he could spend forever like this, held in this strong man’s arms.

“Ronon, please, don’t…. don’t tease,” Nick gasped as Ronon did just that.

Ronon chuckled roughly and did it again, drawing out his cock slightly before plunging it inside Nick’s ass. Nick gasped and arched into the thrust, wrapping his legs around Ronon’s hips, whimpering in pleasure as the action pulled Ronon’s thick cock in deeper. The smell of sex was a heady musk, adding to Nick’s arousal. Greedily, Nick wanted more, and did his best to get Ronon even closer.

“More,” Nick pleaded. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Ronon groaned, leaning down to kiss Nick before beginning a more hurried pace, rushing them both to the crest of desire. Ronon groaned again as he came, spilling inside Nick. Breathing hard, Ronon spent a moment regaining his senses before he pulled out. Still riding the high, Nick closed his eyes, only to feel Ronon’s mouth on his cock, sucking him off. The brush of Ronon’s dreadlocks and beard against his skin added another layer of sensation, and Nick could no longer hold back.

Nick cried out wordlessly as he orgasmed. Blissed on pleasure, he lay on the bed, dimly aware of Ronon getting up and getting a wet towel to clean him up. He was not surprised that Ronon shifted him, arranging him so they could both fit on the bed.

“Sleep,” Ronon told him. “I got you.”

Much to his surprise, Nick did just that.

* * *

“Hey, Nick, wake up,” Ronon shook him sometime later. “You were having a nightmare.”

Nick blinked and sat up, noting that the room was lit softly, as if the lighting had been turned to a nightlight setting. The nightmare was like gossamer when he recognized where he was, but it left him with the feeling of remembered horror. “Sorry.”

Ronon kissed him. “You’re a warrior; it happens. What were you dreaming about?”

Nick shook his head. “Don’t remember.” He smiled ruefully. “Probably all the crap I haven’t let myself think about since I was too busy just trying to live through it.”

“I know how that goes. Want a distraction?”

Nick considered. If he went back to the guest quarters, he would obsess about everything and not sleep. It had been years since he could lean on someone else to be on guard. Not since Amanda had Nick had a lover as skilled at fighting as they were at making love. It was a risk, knowing his time here was limited, knowing how easily he could fall in love with someone who was both a talented lover and a proficient fighter – but Nick couldn’t see why he should resist such a temptation. Nick was tired of being the strong one. If all he got was a week of loving this man, then it would be a week well spent. He ignored the voice that said he was headed for a heartbreak.

“I could be persuaded,” he flirted, leaning in close to Ronon.

Ronon grinned and kissed him until Nick could only think of wanting to feel his cock inside of him again. This time, Ronon let Nick ride him, controlling the pace, taking the time to stroke Ronon’s chest and play with his nipples, until Ronon grew impatient with Nick’s teasing. Before Nick could protest, Ronon rolled them, still joined, and thrust into him at a much faster pace. Wanting to come with his lover, Nick stroked his cock, loving the way the other man reacted with such enthusiasm and the heady pleasure they were creating together. It didn’t take them long to orgasm, and they lay together, spent.

“Much as I hate to say this, we need a shower before we stick together,” Ronon said regretfully a few minutes later.

“Will we both fit?”

Ronon’s eyes gleamed as he stood. “Be interesting to find out.”

Nick chuckled, but he took the hand Ronon offered and let him help him out of bed.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours passed in a haze. Nick spent most of the time in Ronon’s arms, learning again why having an articulate, passionate, and skilled lover was a pleasure both in and out of bed. Amanda had taught Nick how to be a hedonist, but life in this galaxy had taught Nick that hedonism took a back seat to fitting in and ensuring his survival. Ronon helped bring that joy back.

He kept expecting Ronon to ask about his relative lack of scars, but hoped it was a case of Ronon not recognizing the scars he had as such. He surmised Ronon didn’t know what a bullet wound scar would look like, especially not one over his heart. Ronon did ask him about the tattoo on his left ass cheek, curious what it represented.

“It’s supposed to be a wolf howling at a moon.”

Ronon raised his eyebrows at that. “What’s a wolf?”

“Have you seen dogs?” At Ronon’s nod, Nick continued, “Well, wolves are man-sized dogs.”

Ronon stood and picked up the tablet he had on his desk. After a few moments of unlocking it, he pulled up a photo and showed it to Nick. “That what you mean?”

Nick looked at the photo of a white wolf. “Yes.”

“Satedan guard fenweir were that size,” he told Nick. “I never liked being in their cages to clean them; they were unpredictable and vicious, but they could smell the Wraith coming.”

“Were they much help?”

Ronon lifted his shoulders. “They were traditional, from when we didn’t have technology to protect our people from the Wraith and had to rely on more primitive ways.” He sighed. “Sateda still fell.”

Nick looked at him, picking up on the current of anger and disappointment Ronon couldn’t hide. “You think it was an inside job?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still angry, which only can mean one thing in my book: someone allied themselves with the Wraith and let down your defenses so the Wraith could attack. Someone you knew.”

Ronon blew out a breath. “Yeah, that’s what Sheppard thinks happened. I try not to think about it too much. We had built our defenses, our entire culture, around protecting us against the Wraith. People I loved died – millions of people died. But as you’ve seen, people will do anything if it means they stay alive.”

Nick nodded grimly. “I spent three months as part of a band of mercenaries for a man who was convinced that he had the answer to preventing the Wraith from attacking.”

Ronon looked startled at that. “What would that be?”

“A tower as tall as the ones in this city, where he could be shielded from everything,” Nick replied. “I left and went to Belthan; I didn’t want to be around when he finally lost all sense of reality.”

“Did he pay you well?”

“Enough food and a roof over my head, plus some money I could use on Belthan. At the time, I thought it was enough.” Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “Don’t you have some place else to be?”

“Why? Getting restless?” Ronon asked.

“We haven’t left your quarters much,” he noted, “beyond getting meals and you running with Sheppard. As much as I’ve enjoyed being with you, I know there’s more work to be done here, after helping Captain Gareau on Saturday. I feel guilty not contributing more. I’ve lived here long enough to know food is sometimes a precious resource. Do you grow your own vegetables and grain?”

Ronon nodded. “In gardens in the south tower, and we have Athosian chickens. Some of the soldiers fish for what they call bass; it’s good. We trade the fish and chicken for dairy. You aren’t going to cause us to starve.” Ronon leaned in and kissed him. “But I’ll ask and see what you can do. I’m sure Captain Gareau won’t mind having you to help her again. She always loses one or two soldiers when they have to make that glue.”

“How come?”

“She says it’s how she can tell who’s been drinking the night before,” Ronon replied.

Nick laughed. “Yeah, I can see that.” Curious, he asked, “Does Sheppard deliberately assign the hungover soldiers to that duty?”

Ronon grinned. “I would. Teach them not to drink too much.”

“Do you command any of the teams?” Nick wondered.

“Sometimes. When I was new, some of the Marines didn’t want to take orders from me.”

“I can see that. I’ve had a few people ask me why I don’t have a blaster like you do.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Said my sword killed Wraith just as dead as I’m sure your blaster does. That shut them up.”

Ronon chuckled softly and kissed Nick. Willing to let the conversation end, Nick took the cue for more sex.

After that conversation, Nick’s days became a mix of getting to know the other members of the inhabitants of the city, catching up on movies and TV shows, and helping with various repair projects. The city had suffered damage when it had been attacked by the Wraith, damage that had been deprioritized until they could safely attend to it with a large enough crew, power, and materials. By Wednesday, Nick had a good mental map of the large city. By Wednesday, Nick was falling hard for Ronon and he suspected his lover knew it. He didn’t doubt Ronon wanted him to stay.

Wednesday, the day Nick had expected to hear about his return to Earth, passed with no comment from either Sheppard or Colonel Carter. Nick supposed no news was good news. Ronon spent the day elsewhere, guarding a team on a supply mission. Nick tried to pretend that the lack of news and the lack of Ronon, Sheppard, and Teyla didn’t bother him, but Captain Gareau, who had been tasked with making sure he didn’t wander off unsupervised and kept within her squad’s designated repair areas, noticed.

“They’ll be back soon,” she assured Nick. “Might come in hot, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Ronon’s survived the Wraith; he’ll be fine, and Colonel Sheppard and Teyla won’t let anything happen to him if they can prevent it.” She patted Nick’s shoulder, a gesture that made him laugh. At six-feet-one-inches tall, Nick towered over the petite Frenchwoman; if he hadn’t been kneeling to make the slurry they were using as structural glue, she wouldn’t have been able to reach him.

He looked at her. “Has Colonel Carter or Sheppard told you if they’ve heard from their bosses?”

Captain Gareau shook her head. “They’ll tell you when they know; they aren’t the kind of people who hold back when it’s important. Now, we have more work to do and not enough time or people to do it.”

Taking the hint, Nick returned to his task. Nick had noticed the repair team’s makeup changed from day to day, although Captain Gareau and Craftsman Hinojosa, a Canadian Army engineer, and Sergeant Rosario, a US Navy SEAL, remained constants. When Nick asked, Captain Gareau told him she was assigned people based on who was available and the day’s mission priorities. The afternoon passed quickly, and by the time Captain Gareau called a halt, they had fixed the area and moved up to the next floor. From what Nick could tell, they were moving upward; the damaged areas were in unused rooms. Most of the damage appeared to be from explosions that breached perimeter walls, although a few rooms looked as though they had been abandoned for decades, and some of the damage looked years old rather than recent. When Nick had looked alarmed at how much damage had to be repaired, Captain Gareau assured him that the city had excellent defenses, which had enabled them to leave the repairs for later. Nick decided he was better off not asking if the expedition planned to use the rooms; it was enough, in his mind, that they were making a concerted effort to fix the damage rather than to leave it as an open gap in their defenses.

Nick had time to shower, change clothes, and eat dinner before a knock sounded on his door. He opened the door to find Ronon waiting for him. Besides his usual arm bracers, brown sleeveless shirt, pants, and gun holster, Ronon had added a heavier-weight, rust-toned vest to his outfit. A knife was strapped to his left bicep, and it looked like he wore a protective pair of leather overpants. Nick’s hands itched to peel Ronon out of what he was wearing, but he settled for a kiss hello first.

Ronon let the kiss linger, gently nudging Nick back so the door could close behind him. Nick took the steps backward, loving the way Ronon kissed him as if it was the most important thing in the world. Reluctantly, wanting to talk, Nick broke the kiss.

“Hi, honey, welcome home?” Nick teased.

Ronon chuckled. “Brought you a gift.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. Ronon reached into his vest and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. “For work. The Earth ones are too thick; I feel like I lose my grip in them.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Nick kissed him. “Thanks. I was noting that earlier, wondering why I thought they were okay before.”

“You’ve gotten used to using your hands more; you have thicker skin,” Ronon pointed out. “Nothing fits right.”

Nick acknowledged that with a nod as he set the gloves aside. “I hope I get to keep these when I go. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Ronon shook his head. “No. Colonel Carter will be the one to tell you that, not me. You’ve got me. Want to watch something or do something else?”

Wanting to enjoy whatever time he had with this intriguing man, Nick said, “Your choice.”

“Sheppard, McKay, and the others are watching some Earth movie. Want to help me figure out what they’re talking about?”

Surprised again, certain Ronon had only come for a booty call, Nick ran with the invitation. “Sure, but I’m seven years out of date.”

Ronon grinned. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Nick hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “Is this a date?”

Ronon saw the look on his face. “If you want to call it that. Are you having second thoughts?”

Nick nodded. “I don’t want to intrude on your friends’ time together. I’m sure they don’t want to have to censor every conversation they have when I’m around. And it’s one thing to know your friend’s getting laid and another to be presented with evidence, especially if they aren’t.”

Ronon kissed him. “I don’t care what they think. If you want them to think all I wanted you for was your body, that’s your call,” he countered, challenging Nick.

Unable to resist the dare, Nick let himself be led out of the guest quarters. The room next to the library turned out to have been set up as a movie theater. Ten rows of low-backed couches served as seating; they were the same furniture style Nick had seen elsewhere in the city. The movie had yet to start when Ronon and Nick arrived; the couches invited people to sit together. The crowd was a mix of the staff, many of whom Nick had not met, and nearly every seat was taken.

At Ronon’s entrance, several heads turned.

Gruffly, Ronon said, “Everyone, this is Nick Wolfe. Nick, say hello to everyone.”

He waved his hand on cue and got a mix of giggles and a chorused greeting from about half of the group. Any tension he’d felt at going on a date with Ronon dissipated. They took a seat near the back of the room, close to the exit. A few latecomers took up seats on the floor or at the front of the room.

Nick was amused to see that the movie was preceded with a slide that warned, “Talking is allowed during this movie. If you want to see this in a quiet room, leave now.”

The movie turned out to be a Russian-made action/adventure film with English subtitles. The Russian-speaking crowd loudly decried the bad translations, making Nick laugh. The rest of the crowd decried the cliché actions, the trope-heavy characterizations, and several people noted when the hero ran into danger, he forgot to carry a weapon that mysteriously appeared when he needed one. Having people react raucously to scenes, give running commentary, and pitch in on his explanations to Ronon turned out to be one of the better experiences Nick had watching a movie. He was sorry to see it end.

Later that night, after they’d sated their hunger for each other, he turned to Ronon. “If I stayed, what kind of future would I have here?”

“Depends on you,” Ronon told him. “I wouldn’t mind having someone to watch my back and help me watch my teammates.”

“Before I came here, I hadn’t wanted to spend my life fighting – not with a sword anyway. I spent ten years as a cop and rarely fired my weapon in service.” He sighed. “Coming here, I’ve learned how valuable being a swordsman can be, but it’s cost me. I haven’t slept as deeply as I have with you. I thought I’d always have to be on guard.”

Ronon cuddled him closer. “This place, the Wraith, it changes you,” he noted. “I thought I knew what to expect. On Sateda, we were trained to fight the Wraith, trained to think about how we could best contribute to our defense as a planet. I had heard rumors of Runners, but I didn’t think I’d ever be one. I knew the Gates went farther than we knew, but I didn’t think they went to another galaxy.”

Nick half-chuckled. “Finding out about Earth must’ve been a shock.”

“Not as much as going there.”

Startled, Nick sat up slightly. “You’ve been there?”

“Probably shouldn’t tell you, but yeah, I have. Like it better on this side of the Gate. Less confusing about who your enemies are.” Ronon shrugged. “Though drive-through burgers are good.”

Nick narrowed his gaze, then leaned back into the embrace Ronon offered. “I shouldn’t ask when, why, or how; you’re under a confidentiality oath. But…people do go back and forth?”

“Some. Not too often,” Ronon said carefully. “Ever been through a Gate and realized you might be stuck there until someone cranked the mechanism open?”

“Once,” Nick nodded. “It’s how I spent longer than I should have working for a guy who thought he had the answer for beating the Wraith.”

“It’s like that on the other side,” Ronon explained. “They don’t have enough power to keep it open all the time and they limit who goes through.”

Mollified, Nick relaxed. “That makes sense.” He paused. “Any drive-through burger or do you have a favorite?”

Ronon chuckled and distracted him with a kiss instead of answering the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I'm aiming to have this complete before I leave for Escapade at the end of the month. Suggestions on where this goes next, commentary on what you like so far, and constructive criticism welcome!~~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blood and gore in this chapter.

_Friday, 8:00 AM_

An hour after breakfast, Nick was on the main pier practicing sword katas. Though it wasn’t raining, it was chilly, reminding Nick of Parisian mornings in early spring. As he had been earlier on past mornings when he had exercised, he was grateful the clothes he had been given had included a fleece jacket, as he had not kept a winter coat among his things once he realized he would stay on Serling, where the main marketplace was in a desert oasis. March in this place seemed to be on the frostier side, but he was unwilling to ask for a warmer coat until he was certain of how long he would be staying. Living in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him to be frugal in his wants. As long as he kept moving, the chill air contrasted nicely against his sweat. Footsteps on the pier warned him he had a visitor, and he turned to see Colonel Carter approaching.

“Good morning, Nick,” she greeted, careful to stop a sword-length away.

Appreciating her caution, Nick quickly sheathed his sword and his dagger before closing the distance between them. The expedition leader wore what appeared to be a uniform-issue down jacket, currently unzipped to allow access to her weapon, over her usual uniform. She was armed, with a P-90 in a holster and dagger in a sheath strapped to her hip, but Nick expected nothing less, given her status. He had seen that most of the expedition was armed and that the military police were armed with even more weapons, some of which he did not recognize as of Earth. Only a quarter of the expedition were regularly unarmed, and from his conversations with Ronon, Nick knew they were the expedition’s civilian scientists and consultants. The level of preparedness for action reassured Nick on a level he could not name.

“Good morning, Colonel Carter. I’m not the talk of the city again, am I?”

She smiled. “No, people have gotten used to you coming down here and practicing. In case no one’s mentioned it, we do have training rooms; I could set you up with access to one. Be warmer than out here.”

Nick shook his head. “Appreciate the offer but out here, I know I’m only cutting wind, not something irreplaceable.” He smiled. “Or drawing the attention of someone who wants to learn. The only way I know how to teach what I know about swords involves someone getting hurt. Plus, as I’m sure you know, you’re more likely to be fighting someone when you’re freezing your ass off, getting wet, or scorching in the heat.”

She chuckled and nodded. “True. I wanted to tell you we’ve heard from Earth. They’re astonished you made it here and survived. They’ve also confirmed your story about being the co-owner of Sanctuary, a dance club in Paris, and a former police detective. Your partner, Amanda Darieux, has a €10,000 reward for information on your whereabouts. Your disappearance is listed as a suspected kidnapping and possible homicide.”

Something in Nick eased to know that. That they knew Amanda’s name meant little; it was public record due to business licensing requirements, but the level of detail impressed and worried him. An operation like this had the ability to run an extensive background check. Any heads Nick and Amanda had taken, playing the Game, would not show up; Amanda had made sure of that, but Nick worried something had gone wrong with her careful plans. The only thing that would cause a flag would be Amanda’s criminal history as a thief. Silently, Nick prayed that was it and nothing else.

Sam met his eyes. “That also means I know you and Ms. Darieux have been flagged as persons of interest by Interpol. Care to enlighten me as to why?”

Unconsciously, Nick straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had done with or for Amanda and would never be. The police only had suspicions, no proof. “Amanda is – was – a thief; it’s how we met. I was the cop who tried to arrest her. Sanctuary was meant to a chance for her to go straight. Neither of us wanted any of her old friends coming in and ruining things for both of us. Unfortunately, not all of them got the memo, and we had some nefarious characters showing up in Sanctuary, wanting to do business with Amanda. Amanda hated telling people no, so they kept coming back. It put us on Interpol’s watch list.” He studied her a moment. “From the look on your face, I’m guessing you already knew or suspected this, and just wanted to hear me say it.”

Sam nodded. “Data on paper isn’t the same as hearing it firsthand.”

Nick marveled at her cool composure and saw why she was the leader of the expedition. “Does that mean you won’t let me go back?”

“No. However, the power requirements and my command’s concern for your safety mean that if we send you home through the Gate, it’s a one-way trip. I know you and Ronon have gotten close. You’ve impressed us here with your willingness to pitch in and do whatever we ask of you. You respect our security protocols and you understand the importance of defense. We’ve had other visitors here who got in the way despite being told otherwise. You know how difficult it is to survive here, the choices you must make, and why you wouldn’t judge someone here the same way you would if it happened on Earth. We could use someone with your skill and knowledge; three of the addresses you gave to Teyla are ones we knew of only as addresses, nothing more. You also have been to Serling and know how to sell and purchase goods there.”

“For the record, ma’am, I don’t approve of slavery, indentured or otherwise,” Nick replied evenly. “I did what I could to help those who wanted out. It wasn’t enough, but it helped me to think I did something more than just watch the slave trade happen and pretend it didn’t affect me.”

Surprise blossomed on her face. “Was that why you got caught?”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t be certain, but I’m sure it didn’t help my plea of ‘just trying to protect my employer.’”

She chuckled ruefully. “All the more reason I’m glad we’re having this conversation. On behalf of everyone here, I’m asking you to consider staying.”

Excitement and trepidation rushed through Nick. On the one hand, he wanted to go home, wanted to walk into the club and spend time with Amanda, wanted to have to wield only his sword to play the Game instead of for actual survival and defense. On the other, he was finally among people who understood his experience both here and on Earth and who needed all the help they could get in navigating this galaxy. Here, the Game didn’t exist. Here, his sword skills had more value. Plus, Ronon was here – and that was a huge draw. Amanda had many lovers, others who could and would demand a share of her attention – and Nick had grown tired of having to share. It made Nick hesitate.

“How quickly do you need me to make that decision?” he asked Sam.

“Officially, you’ve already said yes,” Sam pointed out, “and we’ll escort you through the Gate at 0730 on Monday. Unofficially, you have until then to change your mind. We have people and supplies we’re transferring, so don’t feel like we’d be wasting the power if you stay.”

Nick exhaled. “I appreciate it.”

“If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, please let me know.” She waited a moment, then when he said nothing, nodded her acceptance, and left.

Wanting to tell Ronon the news, he went looking for him. He found Teyla instead, who informed him that Ronon was training the Marines and would be therefore occupied most of the day. Teyla then asked him about the market on Serling, wanting more information so the command staff could determine the risk. Nick accepted the redirect; telling Ronon could wait. Then Captain Gareau found him and asked if he would help again.

* * *

_Friday, 9:00 AM_

The area Captain Gareau’s team was working in was in the northeast tower in Sector 1. Sector 1 was a mess; it looked as though whoever had used the space had been in the middle of demolishing it without removing the furniture or cabinetry. Something had created a deep indentation in the furniture closest to the outer wall; it looked oval-shaped and heavy. Someone had tacked a thick sheet of metal over the window closest to the dented furniture. Two of the inner walls were half-torn down; the ceiling sagged dangerously. The eight-member team had set up portable generators to supply power to the area. Captain Gareau had warned Nick they were shoring up the beams, reinforcing the outer wall, and cleaning up the space. By now, he knew better than to ask why, but he suspected this area, being as high in the tower as one could get, was part of the city’s defense. The furniture left Nick with the impression of a barracks. It made sense to him that a security team would be stationed here full time.

The team of eight worked quickly. Five hours later, they had stacked all the furniture on the far-left wall. They had hauled the beam that would replace the broken ceiling beam into the room. Six heavy-duty jack hoists would lift the existing ceiling beam so they could replace it. The team had to use ladders to reach the ten-foot ceiling height. Each jack hoist had to be positioned on an extension platform, since they were sized for more standard-Earth-height-eight-foot ceilings. Nick was grateful the platforms were already built and suspected the expedition had run into this problem elsewhere.

At six-foot-one-inch, Nick was one of the taller members of the team. They had only four ladders. One ladder was too short; they had given Nick that one since his height made up the difference. To help take the load on the broken beam, the team needed to crank the jack hoists in a careful sequence to apply equal pressure across the beam and level the ceiling before they could sandwich the new beam in place. Captain Gareau, at just under five-feet tall, was using Sergeant Childe as a ladder, sitting atop his shoulders as she held a laser level to check their progress.

“Okay, we need to lift it up more, straighten this out,” Captain Gareau said. “Wolfe, crank it. No – Jones, don’t touch yours, it’s fine!”

The ceiling snapped with a deafening crunch. Ancient plaster tiles, wiring, and bio-polymer trusses rained down on the team, crushing them with their weight. Nick had no time to cry out, only time to feel something pierce his chest, killing him.

* * *

_Friday, 1:30 PM_

In the control room, alarms sounded as the city complex registered a threat to its personnel.

Hearing it, John and Sam rushed out of their respective offices to the central control room display to figure out what was going on.

“Attention all personnel, medical emergency in Sector 1, topmost level of the Northwest Tower,” the control room specialist on duty intoned. She clipped off her microphone and looked to Sam and John with horrified, worried eyes.

Sam glanced at the display that showed life signs and city status. Tapping her communicator, she asked, “Captain Gareau, this is Colonel Carter, come in, please. Sergeant Childe, this is Colonel Carter, report.”

Not getting a response, she turned worried eyes to John. “Captain Gareau had a team of eight with her, including Nick, working on repairing the ceiling. I’m only seeing two people alive, according to this. Go, take Ronon and Lorne with you. Be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” John said, tapping his communicator as he moved to run to the location where Captain Gareau and her team were. “Ronon and Lorne, I need a crew to help dig out bodies for the medical team.”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement and didn’t expect one.

* * *

The scene was horrific. The ceiling had collapsed, dumping thick, heavy ceiling tiles, wiring, trusses, and parts of the cracked beam onto the unlucky team. It took the rescue team hours to dig out the bodies. Grimly, Sheppard, Ronon, Lorne, and the rescue team worked through the rubble. It was slow going, dangerous work. Only Specialist Ling, who had not been on a ladder, had survived, but the weight of a ceiling tile had crushed his legs; he would not be walking again without aid. Private Jones had also survived the crash, but he was unconscious and in a coma.

Seeing that the only place left untouched was the center of the room and suspecting that was where they would find Nick, Sheppard ordered the recovery team out save for Lorne and Ronon. With Sheppard’s and Lorne’s help, Ronon lifted the last ceiling tile covering the center of the room. Nick’s body lay on the floor, and Ronon tried to pull him out, only to stop when he realized Nick was impaled.

Stepping back, Ronon helped Lorne and Sheppard move the tile to another part of the room. Ronon stared, shocked into stillness as he tried to absorb what he was seeing. A ladder step had come loose and pierced Nick’s heart, pinning his back to the ladder. Part of a shattered jack hoist ran through Nick’s left side, through his hip.

 _Nick can’t be dead. I haven’t told him how I feel yet; he can’t be dead,_ Ronon thought.

“No, please, no,” Ronon muttered, unwilling to believe. He checked for a pulse and swore when he felt none. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to stay focused. The least he could do was remove Nick from this travesty; he couldn’t stand to let him stay here.

He studied how Nick lay a moment and pulled out his blaster, wanting to cut Nick free of all the crushed steel.

Sheppard was abruptly beside him. “Be easier if we start with the smaller pipe, then I pull the ladder off from the back while you hold him,” Sheppard directed. “No telling what all this weight’s done to the floor, and that blaster of yours will go through everything.”

Taking a deep breath, Ronon holstered his weapon. The pipe came out with a sickening squelch; Sheppard tossed it aside. Then, mindful of the metal shard, Ronon rolled Nick to his side, bracing him, while Sheppard pulled out the ladder piece. For a moment, Ronon remembered the last time he’d held Nick, how Nick had explained he’d survived a gunshot wound to the heart (“got lucky, I guess”), and how Nick had laughed when Ronon had teased him about his luck. Now Ronon would never hear Nick laugh like that again.

Sheppard met Ronon’s anguished gaze. “We’ll give you a moment, but we need to get out here soon. Lorne, let Carter know we’ve found everyone. I’ll be right outside.” Something in his tone made Ronon realize he’d taken Nick’s pulse, too, and found none. Sheppard had seen enough battlefield wounds to know when medical care could salvage a patient. Nick was too far gone, even with the advanced medical technology they had available to them.

Ronon sagged to the floor, still holding Nick. “Too soon,” he whispered, his heart aching. “I wasn’t ready for you to go yet.”

Then something amazing happened. Ronon felt the sizzle of electricity against his body and breath whisper against his chest. Not understanding what was happening, but instinctively realizing Nick was alive, Ronon held Nick tighter, only to have Nick fight the hold.

“Easy, Nick,” Ronon warned when he struggled. “I got you. You’re safe.”

Nick took in a lungful of air and breathed out before shoving Ronon hard, pushing him away, scrambling to his feet as he did so. For a heartbeat, all Ronon saw in Nick’s face was the instinct to assess where he was and figure out the safest path away from danger. Then recognition slammed in, and he could read the memory of what had occurred flash across Nick’s face. “Oh, fuck. Tell me we’re alone.”

“Not alone enough to fuck,” Ronon countered automatically as he stood. “Sheppard and Lorne are outside.” He watched as lightning stitched up the rest of the wounds on Nick’s body and his relief turned to suspicion. “What the hell are you?”

“Special,” Nick bit off, then sighed, and amended it to, “Mostly immortal. I can’t die unless you cut off my head.”

“Did you bargain with a Wraith for that gift?” Ronon growled. He aimed his blaster at Nick.

“No. God no.” Nick looked appalled. “I’ve had it all my life. Did – did anyone survive?”

“Specialist Ling, but he’ll never walk again. Private Jones is unconscious. Not sure about his chances.”

Nick closed his eyes briefly, his face reflecting sorrow and regret. “Look, can we get out of this room? I promise to tell you everything, but I’d rather not stay here.”

The door opened and Sheppard stuck his head in. “Ronon? I heard –” He looked at Nick and his gun rose to point at Nick. “You were dead.”

“Yeah, I was. It’s not the first time,” Nick countered evenly. “I’m not a Wraith worshipper. I didn’t deal with the devil to get this gift. I didn’t ask for it, didn’t even know I had it, same way I didn’t know picking up a damned crystal would take me away from everything I held dear. Didn’t know I could keep on living until one day when I was dying, and someone switched this cursed gift on. Anything short of decapitation is something I’ll heal from.”

“You were still bleeding we came through the Gate here.”

“Going through the Ring seems to mess up my ability to heal quickly,” Nick replied. He kept still, as if he knew any sudden movement would bring gunfire.

“You lied,” Ronon growled, “when you said nothing of this ability.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d do it again if it meant I never had to explain what makes me different.” Nick took a breath. “I never wanted you to know, not unless it was necessary. If that makes me a liar, then I’ll tell you I learned from the best, and I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

Sheppard narrowed his eyes, then decided. “Ronon, shoot him,” he ordered.

Ronon didn’t hesitate. He’d deal with his fury at being lied to later; for now, he took comfort in an order he could obey. Nick dropped to the floor, dead again.

Sheppard eyed Ronon. “That was set to stun, wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altogether with me now: Oh, Ronon! ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

_Friday, 8:45 PM_

John looked at Dr. Keller as she stepped into the waiting room of the infirmary. “So?” he prompted her.

“He’s not a Replicator, there are no traces of any Wraith enzymes in his body, and he’s not a Goua’ld or any other of the races on file other than human,” she answered. “It’s like it was before, when I had to type his blood. He tests positive for the Ancient gene, but that’s about as extraordinary as he gets.”

“You sure about that?” John pressed.

Dr. Keller rolled her eyes. “I’m not the gene specialist Dr. Beckett was,” she reminded him. “But if you’re thinking the Ancient scanners are saying something more than he’s human, then maybe you can read better Ancient than the translation protocols can.”

Hearing the defensive edge in her voice, John stepped back, holding up a hand in defense. “I’m not. I’m just amazed he’s alive.”

“That makes two of us,” Dr. Keller agreed, softening. “He doesn’t look like he’s been hurt at all. I almost wish I could figure out what makes him live when we wouldn’t, but—” she sighed and said wryly “—I’m guessing it’s something with a price none of us want to pay. Look, I’ll call you when he wakes up. We know getting stunned by Ronon’s stunner usually takes about two hours to recover from, so it’ll be at least that long before he’s awake.”

John nodded, accepting the dismissal, and walked back out of the infirmary and into its waiting room.

Ronon stood. “Is he human?” he demanded, fear and impatience making his voice rough.

“Yes, but he’s still dead,” John said bluntly, and watched Ronon’s eyes close briefly in pain.

“Thought you’d want to be sure he wasn’t Wraith or worse.”

“Yeah, but I was going to wait to test him until he was unconscious, not dead,” John growled, wishing he’d remembered to be specific. Ronon followed the spirit of what John wanted unless told otherwise. “When he wakes up, he’s going to think you’re angry with him. He’s not going to forget you shot him on my orders. I wouldn’t put it past him to be angry, disappointed, and hurt.”

“You going to tell Colonel Carter?”

“Hell, yes, I’m telling Carter; she’s our boss and she needs to know. Nick isn’t going to stay now – not when we think he’s too much of a liar for wanting to protect his secrets.”

“Carter said his girlfriend on Earth’s a thief.”

“Which you usually don’t have a problem with, given what you’ve had to do,” John shot back. “I’m going to talk to Carter. You better sit here and think about how you’re going to fix this. If Nick stays – and right now that’s a big ‘if’ – he’s not going to just let you kiss him and make up. He’s got pride.”

Ronon bit his lip and swallowed hard. “Come back and sit with me?” he asked. “Just…in case he doesn’t wake up.”

John let out a breath, aware the request meant Ronon felt more for Nick than he would admit aloud. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half. Call me if he wakes up sooner.”

* * *

With a wordless gasp, Nick came alive. Sitting up, he looked around and found himself in the infirmary. He was surprised to see they had not restrained him; he had expected to wake up in whatever this operation’s equivalent of a prison cell was. He still wore the clothes he’d been wearing when the accident had occurred. A new hole in the center of his shirt marked where Ronon had shot him. Nick found himself stupidly grateful that the shirt was one of the ones the expedition had given him, not a shirt he’d had to buy on Serling, or worse, one of the ones his late fiancée had made that he’d hoarded.

Shock, anger, and grief rolled through Nick in a tsunami of emotion. The sound of someone setting a tablet down on a table made him focus. He looked over to see Dr. Keller, who had been sitting in a chair at his bedside, set aside the tablet she had been reading and stood to check on him.

“Thirsty?” she asked. “I thought about putting you on an IV, but I wasn’t sure if your body would process it.”

Finding his throat too dry to speak, he nodded, grateful for the distraction. She handed him a full glass of water, which he drank slowly. She lifted a water pitcher inquiringly, and at his nod, refilled it. He drank that one too, letting the simple task soothe the edges of his shock, anger, and grief.

“What the hell did that bastard hit me with?” he demanded, absently rubbing the spot where he had been shot, as she took the empty glass from him and set it on the rolling patient tray beside the bed.

“Ronon shot you with that Satedan hand cannon of his,” Dr. Keller informed him, taking his pulse.

Nick hadn’t believed Ronon when he’d told him that his blaster was more than enough weaponry, assumed it was just him bragging, and rued his disbelief. “Calling that weapon a hand cannon is more correct than ‘blaster.’ Damn. I’ve been shot before, but that thing is the second worst thing I’ve ever been killed by.”

“What was the first?”

“Handcrafted poison with no cure other than be shot and die.”

Dr. Keller frowned at that. “Who did that to you?”

“Ex-friend of my then-girlfriend poisoned me, and then my girlfriend shot me. By then, I’d been suffering the effects of the poison for nearly two days.”

“You need to figure out a way not to keep getting shot by your lovers, but I suspect you know that one already,” Dr. Keller chided.

“Did anyone else survive?”

“Specialist Ling’s legs were broken; he’ll need surgery, which we can’t perform here. Private Jones is in a coma. Both are stable. Now, I need to check your lung function. Breathe deep.” She listened to his heartbeat and breathing, checked the oxygenation of his blood, tested his reflexes, then asked him to swing his legs around so he sat upright on the side of the bed and tested his balance.

She then smiled tightly. “What are you? No one else can survive a blast from Ronon’s hand cannon, not unless he’s set it to stun.”

“Immortal,” Nick said flatly.

Dr. Keller’s frown deepened. “You were dead. Twice.”

He eyed her warily. “You under the same confidentiality oath as everyone else?”

“Mine’s actually higher than most, since I’m part of the senior staff.”

“And the senior staff are?”

“Sheppard, Carter, Rodney McKay, Teyla, Ronon, me, and the other heads of the departments here in the city,” Dr. Keller smiled gently. “If it helps, I’m under orders to keep whatever you tell me highly confidential.”

Nick wasn’t reassured by that, but she was acting as his doctor. She had the power to let him go or lock him up. Her calm curiosity was going a long way towards defraying his anger at being shot, again. Nick considered the value of lying to her and discarded it. For all he knew, she had been briefed; the MPs could be waiting outside, waiting for her call for assistance in removing him for being uncooperative. _No, better to be honest_ , he thought.

“Unless my head is completely severed, it’s only a temporary death.”

Dr. Keller raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Could you survive a partial severing of the spinal cord above the shoulders?”

“I’m told yes, but I hope I never find out for myself.” He shuddered at the thought.

“No wonder Ronon likes you. Damn man thinks he’s super tough. He once took seven blasts from a Wraith stunner before he went down, I’m told.” She sighed. “Well, according to everything my tests tell me, you’re not Superman. Are you feeling any lingering headache, dizziness, nausea?”

“No.” Relief flooded through him at the news her tests had revealed nothing unusual about him.

Dr. Keller looked at him doubtfully. “You’re not lying, are you? Because most people hit with Ronon’s cannon on stun feel those things. It’s okay for you to tell me.”

Nick shook his head. “Even if I was lying, you’d be obligated to report whatever I say to Sheppard and Colonel Carter. I’m too much of a security risk otherwise.”

The doctor winced at the assessment but didn’t deny it. “Well, for what it’s worth, Ronon usually reserves that blaster for someone who’s pissed him off, and not usually that high of a setting.” She shook her head. “I had to ask him if he intended to kill you. He said no.”

“Great,” Nick groaned. Knowing that made it worse: to Nick, it meant Ronon was livid with him, and Nick couldn’t see where that would result them ever having sex again, let alone a civil conversation. “He’s pissed at me for not telling him sooner.”

Dr. Keller smiled and laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ronon rarely waits for someone if he’s really pissed off. You scared him. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time. Talk to him. He might be angry, but he’ll listen if you explain things.”

“How do you know?”

She smiled briefly. “He fell in love with me. I couldn’t handle his intensity and decided I wanted someone else. He forgave me, eventually, for deciding I wanted someone else. I think he’ll do the same for you, the forgiving part, I mean.”

“Thanks.” Nick wasn’t surprised to learn Ronon had fallen in love with someone in the city, but he wasn’t too certain he agreed with Dr. Keller’s assessment. Everything he knew about Ronon said he was a man of deeply held convictions. Lying by omission was still lying, and Nick remembered the feeling of betrayal when Amanda had done the same to him. He couldn’t blame Ronon for reacting with such intensity. He doubted Ronon was in love with him as Dr. Keller claimed; it was –

 _Not too soon,_ a voice in his head reminded him. _You fell for Amanda when she complimented you on your ass, and that had been the first time you ever talked to her._

Ignoring that voice, Nick took a deep breath and walked towards the door. He felt naked without his sword, but he hadn’t had it since he hadn’t been expecting to need it while working on the ceiling repair. Taking Ronon at his word, Nick had trusted that the city’s MPs had security well in hand. He expected that Ronon, being one of the few in the city capable of taking him out, was waiting to escort him somewhere where he would never see Earth again, always to know it was close but out of reach. Fighting his way past Ronon would be a futile exercise, especially since it would be backed by the firepower of the assembled military corps in the city. Even if they didn’t lock him up, Nick couldn’t see why Sheppard or Ronon would ever trust him again. Certain he was headed for disappointment, Nick sighed deeply and resigned himself to his fate.

Stepping out of the infirmary’s patient care area and into its waiting room, he saw both Ronon and John waiting for him. Part of Nick wanted to yell at Ronon for following orders, but he resisted the urge. Ronon had made his loyalty to John clear, and Nick couldn’t fault him for it. The other part, the part very much in love with Ronon, wanted to see if Ronon still wanted him. Since that desire seemed guaranteed to get him shot again, Nick ignored Ronon and met John’s gaze. “Time for me to get locked up?”

“For what?” John demanded, confused. “Did you intend to cause that accident?”

“No. Private Jones wasn’t listening to Captain Gareau’s instructions. We’d already heard the ceiling creak once, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was still hungover. I told Captain Gareau Jones was an alcoholic who needed treatment; I recognized the signs from all the years of running a dance club. She said she’d pass that on to after we were finished with the ceiling repair.”

John swore. “I’ll make sure to add that note in his file and have Dr. Keller check his system. That’s going to fuck up his recovery.” He paused. “Thanks. Now, did you intend to keep what you are a secret for fear of what we might do to you?”

“Yes.” Nick crossed his arms.

“Then I don’t blame you for that.”

Nick snorted, not convinced. “Why did you tell Ronon to kill me?”

“I didn’t tell him to kill you,” John countered, irked. “I ordered him to shoot you. I was hoping for stun.”

“If you wanted stun, you’d have specified. You’re too precise otherwise. You wanted proof I could come back from the dead and time to run a few tests to make sure I wasn’t one of your enemies.”

John held his gaze a moment. “Just doing my job,” he returned evenly. “Your file says you were a security consultant after leaving the police force. You’d have recommended action be taken to verify results.”

“Which is why I’m more disappointed than angry,” Nick noted. “But now I’m worried: what are you going to do with the information you’ve gathered from testing me? Because if you share it with your superiors, many people could die.”

That caught Ronon’s attention. “Why?”

“My people are already hunting each other, killing for the knowledge others hold. I’ve no desire to speed up that process. Like I said: I can heal from anything short of complete decapitation. That means you could pull my organs out, harvest them for parts, and I’d regrow it all. Plus, I’ll never age, so you could keep killing me, experimenting on me, and my body will still look and be as perfect as it was when I died the first time.” He shrugged coldly. “Mind you, I might be insane by then but it’s a calculated risk.”

John and Ronon stared at him. “Please tell me that shit hasn’t happened to you,” John implored.

Nick met his appalled gaze. “Someone tried. They wanted to increase organ donation organically and knew about immortals, so they kidnapped a few of us to start. That they were also immortal and targeting their fellow kind didn’t bother them. They’re dead now; I didn’t agree with their scheme.”

Ronon narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were from Earth.”

“I am, but I was born with this gift or curse, depending on how you look at it, which was triggered when I died the first time. There are others like me on Earth. We play a Game with swords wherein we hunt each other, hoping to be the winner and, eventually, the last immortal standing.” He looked at his hands, remembering the last time he had fought another immortal. He didn’t regret taking that head, not after the organ donation fiasco. He lifted his chin, meeting John’s eyes as he shoved the memory of that Quickening aside.

Nick continued, “We take each other’s heads to gain the other’s Quickening, which is what we call our life essence and what we know and learned from living. When we win, it looks like a lightning storm and feels like someone’s ripping you apart. If you’re not strong-minded and centered on who you are, you’ll lose a second time, because your opponent could take you over from the inside.”

“That…sounds horrible, and painful,” John said, his face reflecting his dismay, “but I can tell from your voice and the look on your face you’ve played your Game and survived. Why?”

“Self-defense, justice, because I could when no one else would be able to, sometimes all of the above,” Nick replied. He wasn’t boasting, but he wasn’t proud of it either. “I don’t like killing other people. I also don’t go hunting other immortals unless they’ve done something to warrant my attention, like hurt me or my friends.”

“How can you tell if someone’s immortal?”

“Best way I can describe it is that it’s like a sudden pressure in my head that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. With immortals I know and spend a lot of time with, it becomes a unique frequency, like an urgent whisper that keeps repeating.”

“What happens if you’re the last immortal standing?” John wondered.

“If I win,” Nick laughed humorlessly, “that means I’ll have lost friends and lovers and people I haven’t even met yet. I’m not sure being on the side of good for all mankind will mean shit if I will live forever and still be alone.”

“And if it’s not you?” Ronon stepped closer. He looked torn between wanting to hold Nick and wanting to shoot him again.

Nick couldn’t meet his gaze and settled on looking at John instead, seeing him as the less angry of the pair.

“If it’s not me, then either I’m dead and I lost, or whoever wins better be someone good. Because if it’s someone evil, mankind will suffer.

“Look, arrest me, lock me up, don’t let me go back to Earth, whatever you think is right, but if you’re going to give me shit about being immortal, I’d like to be alone. I liked Captain Gareau, Sergeant Childe, and the rest of the team. Since most of them are dead, I’d like time alone to grieve.”

Only then did Nick risk looking at Ronon. Ronon’s fists were balled tight, and he looked like he was seconds away from wanting to hit someone. Suspecting that someone was himself, Nick braced for the blow. Now that his rush of anger had dissipated, Nick couldn’t sustain the emotion or find fault with Ronon for shooting him. The echo of circumstance made Nick want to weep for the way karma had come back to bite him.

 _Oh, Amanda, you warned me I’d learn keeping immortality secret was a double-edged sword, but I never imagined it would play out like this,_ Nick thought. _I was so angry you never told me I’d be immortal, so angry you’d lied by omission. I never thought being on the other side, telling my lover I was immortal, would feel like I’d fucked up, and all I can think about is how much it hurts._

John glanced at Ronon. “Go talk to Teyla; we need to prepare for the funerals.”

Looking relieved by that order, Ronon stalked out of the room.

“I’ll take you to your quarters,” John said.

Nick nodded tightly, certain as they walked away that he had lost the best thing he had found in the Pegasus Galaxy. Grief surged through him, making it difficult to speak. He was grateful the military commander asked no further questions as they made their way through the city.

* * *

“He lied to me,” Ronon muttered, pacing Teyla’s quarters a half hour later.

“By omission,” Teyla reminded him. “You would have done the same in the same circumstance. How is that different?”

“He was open about everything else.”

“He could afford to be. He was close to going home finally,” Teyla sat serenely on her bed. “If this accident had not happened, you would have thought he was interesting and pleasant, and no one would have been the wiser. Does knowing he can heal from nearly anything, even wounds that would kill us, change how you feel about him?”

Ronon froze. “No.”

“Do you fault him for wanting to keep himself safe?”

“No,” Ronon replied, grimacing. “Why didn’t he trust me with that information sooner?”

“Did you trust us that first week?”

Closing his eyes briefly, Ronon let out a breath. “No.” He sagged with the realization he had been judging Nick harshly, and the lie of omission was one he would have made under the same circumstances. Seeing it that way now, Ronon was certain if he knocked on Nick’s door, Nick would refuse to see him and ignore him completely. Ronon had been angry enough to not use caution when he’d followed Sheppard’s order to shoot Nick, and it would cost him.

Teyla arched a look at Ronon. “Then what is your problem with Nick?”

Ronon grimaced. Sometimes, he hated that Teyla saw through him so clearly. “He’ll go back to fighting others like him and an ex-girlfriend who hasn’t seen him in seven years. I don’t think she would appreciate him, who’s he become here. I do.” He turned and looked at Teyla with anguish in his eyes. “I don’t want him to leave. How can I convince him to stay?”

Teyla rose and hugged Ronon before stepping back. “Apologize for killing him, even if doing so helped gain information Sheppard wanted to know. Tell him how you feel and be honest. Give him reason to believe you want more from him than a few nights’ pleasure. For now, start with letting Nick be for a while. He has suffered a loss; he will need time to grieve. Now, it is late, and we both need sleep.”

* * *

_Saturday, 2 PM_

Too used to sleeping with Ronon, Nick took hours to fall asleep. When he did, his dreams were filled with nightmares. He slept through breakfast, then only ventured to the mess hall when his stomach reminded him he had last eaten at lunch the day prior. Unwilling to be seen, certain others would want to question him, Nick did his best to hide and stay out of everyone’s way. Intellectually, he knew he was not at fault for the accident, but it didn’t stop his sense of guilt for being alive. His heart ached, and he wished he could turn back time and prevent what happened from happening.

He did not expect Ronon to contact him and told himself he was being a romantic idiot for thinking Ronon wanted him for more than a few nights’ pleasure. Cynically, he thought he had paid for his room and board in fine Serling style: the expedition got free labor and he’d gotten laid without having to use his body as the sole coin of exchange. Nick grimaced when the thought crossed his mind. He wasn’t the cold-hearted guard of a Serling merchant he had pretended to be, looking the other way because the economy of the marketplace meant he couldn’t risk playing the hero every time.

 _This place has messed with my head_ , Nick thought. _I just want to go home and run Sanctuary, play the Game sometimes, love Amanda when she wasn’t with someone else and sometimes even then. Life was simpler. I loved Amanda, even though I knew I’d never be enough for her and that we were headed for a breakup if something didn’t change. She’ll take me back in a heartbeat, I’m sure of it. We’ll make it work somehow. We always did before._

Deliberately, Nick shut his mind to the dream of staying. He couldn’t see where the expedition would want him, especially if Ronon no longer wanted him. He wasn’t worth keeping – they had soldiers and technology; all he had was a handful of Gate addresses. Ronon had clearly been their swordsman before he arrived and would continue to be. What use could he bring to such a well-oiled machine?

 _Oh yeah, that’ll go over well,_ he thought. _I’m useful because I can be Ronon’s lover. That’ll keep him coming back to this city for oh, about a nanosecond, especially if he’s still angry with me. I can’t imagine Colonel Carter or Sheppard wanting to waste power and resources on me for that shit. Better to let me go home, where I won’t factor into any of their calculations._

When the knock on his door sounded, he was surprised and relieved to see Teyla on his doorstep. She was dressed more formally than he was used to seeing her, in traditional Athosian attire, in a dress patterned in shades of dark purple and midnight blue. From the time he had spent on Serling, working for a woman who traded in textiles and taught him to recognize specific colors and patterns from the societies in the galaxy, Nick recognized it as something reserved for Athosian special ceremonies.

“We are holding a funeral in an hour for Captain Gareau, Sergeant Childe, Craftsman Hinojosa, and Sergeant Rosario,” she told him. “I thought you’d like to be there, and I brought you some clothes if you would like to change.”

“I would.” Nick stepped aside to let her into the room. She carried a large bag, which she deposited on the bed, and pulled out clothes.

To his surprise, the clothes she brought comprised a black vest, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black pants. They smelled faintly of Ronon.

“I hope you didn’t demand he let me borrow these,” Nick said warily.

Teyla looked insulted. “He insisted I bring them to you. Said you wouldn’t go, especially if all you had to wear was what you owned. Earth custom says you need to wear something nice to a funeral.”

Nick bit his lip, torn between laughing and crying. “He’s daring me to show up in his clothes, Teyla, and forgive him for shooting me. I don’t know if I can do that. Not right now.” He took a breath. “It's a little too much like déjà vu. My ex-girlfriend shot me, too, and wanted me to forgive her for doing it.”

Teyla eyed him and sighed. “I told Ronon he was pushing his luck.” She reached into the bag and brought out a tunic like the one Nick had grown used to wearing, living in the Pegasus Galaxy. The tunic was in the same midnight blue shade as the clothes Teyla wore and had side lacing to adjust the body and sleeves. The pants looked like they belonged to a combat uniform, but they were gray and nondescript.

“The tunic may be a little big,” she warned him, “but I made it for a friend of mine, many years ago. He did not live to wear it, and I have been holding on it, hoping I could give it to someone else.”

“I’m honored to wear it.” Nick discarded the t-shirt he had been wearing and tried on the tunic, which turned out to be more of a shirt length than a tunic due to Nick’s height. Teyla helped adjust the lacing so the excess thread was not visible. She then turned her back so Nick could trade out the pants he was wearing for the gray ones. He was relieved to see they fit.

“I thought they would wait until longer to hold the funerals, maybe not even hold them here,” Nick noted as he dressed.

“People here need to honor them, too, and they would not be allowed to attend the services on Earth.”

Realizing that made sense, Nick turned his attention to his next concern. “How is Specialist Ling doing?”

“Dr. Keller has sedated and stabilized him. He and Private Jones will be transported back to Earth on Monday for additional medical care. Dr. Keller says that with therapy and time, Specialist Ling will be able to live a full life. She is less certain about Private Jones, but I can confident in her healing ability. They would not have survived such an accident on Athos.”

“Does everyone know what happened and how I survived?” Nick zipped up the pants and turned to face Teyla.

Teyla met his worried gaze. “Ronon and Sheppard found you, alive but unconscious.” She reached out and touched his forearm reassuringly. “This is the story we will tell others, that your survival is a miracle of the Ancestors. Sheppard briefed me and Colonel Carter so we would know why you had lived despite the ceiling falling on you. What matters more is that you are alive, and we can grieve together the loss of our friends.”

Nick nodded tightly, realizing that Ronon shooting him and taking him to the infirmary only reinforced the fiction.

Teyla smiled briefly. “Come with me. I must escort you to where we are holding the service.”

They held the funeral service in an atrium in an area Nick suspected led to the control room. Teyla would not allow him to stand in the back and hide, nudging him forward when he would have otherwise tried to blend into the shadows. Nick half-expected someone to say something nasty to him, but the appearance of everyone in dress uniforms made him realize no one would, even if they thought otherwise. Colonel Carter led the service.

Nick barely remembered anything beyond Colonel Carter moving to the podium. His eyes were too full of tears – tears for the people who had died working next to him, tears for the love he’d found and was certain had lost, years of grief for the people he’d lost in the last seven years cascading through him in this one watershed moment. He dimly knew of being guided away from the atrium to eat in the mess hall. The food tasted like ash on his tongue, but he ate mechanically, aware his body needed fuel. Someone helped him to a room, and he felt the sting of a needle, dragging him unconscious. He went willingly, wanting to sleep away the pain and heartache he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::hands over virtual tissues::


	10. Chapter 10

_Sunday, 07:15 AM_

Nick woke slowly, feeling the distinct edge of having been drugged. He felt someone holding him. Instinct borne out of years of paranoia kicked in and he fought against the embrace.

“Easy, Nick, you’re with me,” Ronon growled as he held him tighter.

Nick stilled, shock flooding his system as he recognized they were in the guest quarters and that Ronon was holding him. Releasing him, Ronon watched as Nick scrambled to sit up and get some distance from the very tempting embrace.

“What are you doing here?” Disconcerted, Nick stared at him. The anger that had dissipated in the infirmary came roaring back as Nick wondered if his lover thought he was so eager to get laid, he’d overlook what Ronon had done.

“Holding you, what did it look like? Figured you’d wonder why you were drugged and want an explanation. Dr. Putin thought it better if you slept and didn’t spend all night grieving,” Ronon countered. “She thought you were grieving for more than the people you worked with all week.”

He eyed Nick, assessing his need for distance. With a sigh, Ronon sat up and pushed the covers aside, revealing he wore the thin gray pants Nick recognized as Ronon’s sleepwear.

“Are you mad at me for shooting you?”

Crossing his arms, Nick looked at him bitterly. “You killed me. You didn’t have to hit that hard, not if your gun has a stun setting from what Dr. Keller told me. Were you just being a good soldier boy for your colonel?”

Ronon shrugged. “I don’t like being deceived. I will do anything to protect this city from the Wraith or any other threat. If I wanted you permanently dead for deceiving me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“And you wanted to know if I was a Wraith or Runner who’d somehow missed Dr. Keller’s initial scan.”

“Sheppard wanted to know, too.”

Nick closed his eyes briefly, remembering that conversation. “What changed your mind?”

“Got to thinking about what you told us. You didn’t ask for the gift you have, same way I didn’t ask to become a Runner. You said you were born with it and you’ve been trying to live with it ever since.” Ronon paused. “And you said you fought others of your kind on Earth. That’s why you learned to fight with a sword, isn’t it?”

Unable to deal with the compassion he was hearing from Ronon, Nick rose and dressed, putting on a shirt and jeans, careful not to face Ronon as he did so. He poured himself a glass of water and drank half it before turning to face Ronon.

“What do you want from me?” Nick demanded, confused. “Are you the reward Sheppard’s giving me for allowing Dr. Keller to run tests on me again?”

“No,” Ronon shot back, annoyed and insulted. “I wouldn’t agree to that even if he suggested it. All he cares is whether you want to go to Earth, knowing you’re trading one war for another. Amanda’s like you, isn’t she, and already gotten you in such trouble that the police are watching you? They’ve declared you guilty by association. You told Sheppard you’re the wolf to a raven, which means Amanda thinks it’s amusing to see if the police can catch her. Meanwhile, you stopped being amused a long time ago.”

At Nick’s reluctant nod, Ronon continued, “Do you really want to back to that? Sheppard says the NSA will watch you for the rest of your life, knowing you know about this galaxy, waiting for you to sell or trade that information to someone. If you’re fighting a war with others of your kind, it’s not sanctioned. If you were caught, Carter said they’d try you as a murderer, and you couldn’t tell them the whole truth why for fear they’d hunt down the others like you. You’ll always wonder who your friends and enemies really are.”

Nick stared at him, shocked by his insight. He’d assumed Ronon was nothing more than a well-trained soldier using him for a few night’s pleasure – an interlude that meant nothing. How could he have overlooked that Sheppard trusted Ronon to train the combat teams? Or that Ronon had spent seven years as a Runner, surviving the Wraith while avoiding populated areas? That took intelligence, cunning, and planning. He had not anticipated Ronon would consider his words or go find the others Nick had talked to and gather more information. That meant Ronon wanted a complete picture of who Nick was and the trouble he would face going back to Earth. The part of Nick that had been a detective for a decade and a security consultant for five years beyond that threw a party at the realization Ronon understood Nick was facing an uncertain and dangerous future. Yet the other part, the one deeply in love and hurt by Ronon’s adherence to maintaining security, wanted more.

As if sensing Nick’s wavering, Ronon continued, “Here, you won’t be alone. We know who we’re fighting against and why we’re fighting. We could always use someone who's a good fighter, knows how the Wraith fight, and how to make friends in this galaxy. I won’t abandon you and I won’t let the others do it, either, not unless you’re doing something to destroy us. I want you here. Please don’t go back to Earth on Monday.”

“Is that all?” Ronon made it sound so simple, so tempting, there had to be a catch, Nick thought. _Probably thinks I’m good enough in bed to be worth asking,_ he thought cynically. _Well, two can play that game._

Ronon met Nick’s disbelieving gaze. “Is it so hard to believe I’d rather have you here, alive, and with me?

For a long moment, Nick said nothing. “Someone taught me to look for the lie in a truth, and the truth in a lie. If I stayed, what will it cost me to be sure you keep immortality a secret?”

* * *

The simple statement made Ronon hurt for Nick. “Nothing,” Ronon told him.

“I don’t believe you.” Nick met his gaze expectantly and uncrossed his arms. With deliberate care, he drew his hand down across his chest and into the waistband of his jeans, then moved his feet so they were more apart. His other hand grabbed his crotch suggestively. “I think you just want more of this and want me as your lover in exchange for keeping my secret.”

Ronon dragged his eyes away from watching Nick’s hands move, half-aroused but too aware that was Nick’s point. “Not that,” Ronon growled. “That’s not a payment I’m willing to take.”

“No?” Nick asked huskily. “You liked having me under you before, liked the way my cock tasted in your mouth.”

“Not why I liked it or why I was doing it,” Ronon bit off, and took a deep breath, irritated that Nick would make that assumption. “What makes you think I’d even consider it?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made that trade in this galaxy.” Quiet resignation of circumstance laced Nick’s voice, and he held himself still as he watched Ronon.

The abrupt reminder of how harsh life was in other parts of the galaxy sharpened Ronon’s sense of guilt. Seven years was a long time to survive alone, without a home, and there were too many settlements where an able body was a commodity. Ronon had stolen and lied and hidden; no surprise Nick had had lousy options too.

“I’m not them. You aren’t just some refugee I fucked. If all I wanted was sex, I could find a Marine. It wouldn’t mean a damn thing and that’s not something I want anymore.”

Nick stared at him, disbelieving. “Then why do you want me here?”

Ronon allowed himself a small smile. “Got anywhere better to be?”

“Earth,” Nick countered, lifting his chin defiantly.

Ronon swore mentally. He could tell he was fighting against Nick’s walls and the years of learning just how unfair life could be. Ronon didn’t know how long Nick had lived with the knowledge he was part of a war that wouldn’t end until it nearly annihilated his people, but he understood what it meant to be a soldier in a similar war. “With someone who let you suffer from poison for days before she shot you? Was she testing you, seeing how long it would take before you died? Or too scared to kill you to ease your pain?”

“She was hoping for a cure.”

Nick’s excuse sounded like something he’d had learned to accept, and Ronon’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. She underestimated what you were going through and miscalculated.”

Nick turned away and Ronon knew he’d scored a direct hit. Rising, he closed the distance between them and touched Nick’s shoulder, forcing him to turn to look at him.

“I know that feeling. I miscalculated, too. I’m sorry I shot you dead. Stunning you would have given Jennifer enough time to run tests.” He offered Nick a rueful smile. “Carter says I’ve got to work on my anger management and not agree with everything Sheppard wants.”

He saw a reluctant smile tug on Nick’s lips. “And if I said I want to be left alone?”

“I think you’ve been alone long enough to go crazy, wondering if anyone would ever believe you,” Ronon countered. He drew Nick into an embrace, ignoring Nick’s resistance. “I think you’ve been trying to convince yourself of a lie. I don’t think you miss Earth as much as you want to go back and tell Amanda goodbye, maybe even fuck off, because you discovered a good life without her. It wasn’t all great, but you knew who your friends were and who was the enemy. You weren’t looking over your shoulder, checking for shadows, bracing yourself for that feeling of warning that someone like you was near. I doubt you would have agreed to marriage if you hadn’t found happiness on Yagur. You wouldn’t have kept going, selling your skills as a warrior, if you hadn’t found purpose here.” He felt Nick jerk with surprise and hid a smile. Now he knew what Nick’s secret was, Ronon thought the man was an open book.

“You love it here. Your Game isn’t here, but if it ever crossed over, I’d kill every immortal who ever tried to take your head and away from me.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Why? Doing that could kill you. I thought you only wanted me for sex, someone to pass the time with before I went back to Earth.”

Ronon shook his head, enjoying the astonishment on his love’s face. “Started out that way, yeah, but I got to know you. You could’ve spent the time without me wasting time, never getting to know anyone else here. You made the effort to know people, to contribute. When I asked you about what you’d worked on, you were excited to tell me, and you were as interested in hearing about what I’d done. I could tell you were tempted to ask me if where you were working were areas related to our defenses, but you never asked me those questions.”

“Figured you wouldn’t tell me,” Nick admitted. Wary now, he asked, “What more do you want from me, other than sex and forgiveness?”

“I want you to stay and make this a home, with me. You’re honorable, smart, strong, and sexy. You deserve someone who appreciates the man you’ve become here – not someone who sees you as a source of amusement or entangles you in her criminal friends.

“I appreciate and love you, Nick. I want to wake up holding you and spend days going on missions with you. We’d kick ass together and few could stop us. Talk to Carter or Sheppard if you change your mind about leaving tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss on Nick’s lips before he forced himself to step back and exit the room. He had made his case; time to let Nick decide.

* * *

Shocked into silence, Nick stared at the door where Ronon had exited. Every counterargument he could conceive of failed in the face of love. In a daze, he looked around the room, seeing the mix of Earth and Ancient tech and furniture. For the first time in years, he’d felt like he was home. Until two minutes ago, he hadn’t realized it had become one.

Needing something resembling normal, Nick finished dressing, strapped on his sword and dagger, and went out to practice sword katas. He couldn’t figure out how to feel. He was confused and torn and angry and hopeful and it was all an uncongealed mass of feeling, swirled into a single bowl, waiting for him to digest it. The rhythm of the exercise soothed him, and he took refuge in the need to focus on his breathing, on precisely executing his moves.

An hour later, hearing footsteps, he turned to find Teyla waiting for him. She wore a long white, fur-lined coat over her usual Athosian attire; knee-high boots peeked out from under her multi-layered, split-fabric skirt. As he came to a stop, he realized how chilly the morning air was and shivered as his sweat cooled on his skin.

“I have been admiring your practice and dedication. I would like to fight against you,” she said. “We have practice weapons in one of the training rooms.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled. “I heal quickly. Come, and then we can settle a bet.”

“Did Ronon put you up to this?”

She shook her head. “This is for me. I figured you might want a distraction. The Marines are betting against you. They think I will win.”

Nick chuckled. “And doing so will prove I was just lucky in the accident, not supernatural?”

She smiled. “Supernatural is a matter of perspective. I inherited Wraith DNA. It makes me heal faster and I can sense when the Wraith are near. For a time, it meant my people feared me, and my position here with the expedition was at risk.”

Startled, Nick blinked at that disclosure.

Mischief filled her smile as she added, “Some Marines also thought I could not fight when I was pregnant with my son. I proved them wrong. They have learned not to underestimate me. I have fought against a Wraith Queen and won.”

Nick stared at her a moment longer, uncertain if the slender, muscular woman before him was offering him a challenge or a death match. “A Wraith Queen?”

Teyla nodded. “We figured out the Wraith travel in hives, sometimes multiple hives, led by a queen.”

Nick stared at her, impressed and a little wary. “And if I cede the match before we begin?”

She lifted her chin challengingly. “Ronon would not love a coward.”

Nick winced at that direct hit. He had suspected Ronon and Teyla were good friends, but that confirmed it for him. Stalling, Nick asked, “Who do you mean by Marines?”

“The soldiers who accompany us on missions to other places in this galaxy and who serve as military police. Sheppard named them so when the expedition was new, since the cadre was mostly Marines then. I believe on Earth, they are called special forces? The composition of the cadre has changed over the years, but the name stuck.”

“And if they notice I’m healing from any wound?”

“They will not if we fight with practice weapons. I do not bruise easily; they will assume you are like me and Ronon that way. We swear the Marines to secrecy, but it does not prevent them from gossiping amongst themselves. If you were to stay, they would need to know how to protect and fight with you.” She paused. “I will also kick their asses if they get out of line, talking too much. They’re overdue for that, since they have been gossiping about you and Ronon.”

Nick studied her. “Let me guess: they think Ronon lost because he wanted to get into my pants, not because I’ve been fighting with a sword for over a decade. And if I go tomorrow, you’ll at least know you answered one question they have about my skills – that they aren’t for show.”

She nodded.

Nick took a deep breath. Fighting her would pass the time, if nothing else, and keep thoughts of Ronon out of his head. His heart was confused, his head was a mess, and the only thing that had ever helped the two reconcile was when he fought. “Lead the way, then.”

* * *

Marines and other soldiers filled the room; word had spread quickly of the fight. Because of the heat in the room, Nick had taken off the fleece jacket and tunic vest he’d been wearing; Teyla wore only a halter top and a single-layer split-fabric skirt. Both were barefoot. She had chosen bantos rods as her weapon and armed him with a wooden sword and a rubber dagger equivalent to his sword and dagger. Nick had fought against a bantos rods fighter before and knew they were just as liable to use kicks and throws as they were to use their sticks.

The fight followed no distinct pattern; Nick expected none and adjusted his tactics. He fought as if Teyla was his enemy and his weapons were the real thing, and she did the same to him. They ignored the assorted commentary from the crowd as they proved that they were formidable opponents, well-matched. Teyla edged him out, scoring the last point when she threw him to the floor.

Wryly, he accepted her hand up as the Marines applauded and cheered her win. He bowed to her, surprised when she pressed her forehead against his and lightly held her hands against his head.

“Stay,” she whispered. “I would be honored to fight alongside you and protect this city.” She let go of his head as she straightened.

He met her gaze. “I’m thinking about it.”

She nodded, accepting the qualifier. “Wait for me; I will take you back to your quarters.”

* * *

“What are you most looking forward to doing when you get to Earth?” Teyla asked as they made their way to his quarters.

“Not having to figure out if I have enough to trade with for food and supplies,” Nick replied, chuckling. “Or sleep outside. I miss having a home.”

Teyla smiled. “I have become spoiled by living here,” she admitted. “I enjoy not having to sleep outside.” She entered their destination in the transporter before turning to face Nick. “You would have a home here if you stayed, regardless of your relationship with Ronon. I meant what I said, Nick. We have need of someone who knows how trade with people in this galaxy, can train the people from Earth to do so, and can fight. I cannot do it alone.” She took a breath. “Aside from that, I have enjoyed getting to know you, and I will miss you if you leave.” She smiled quickly. “And before you ask: no, no one asked me to say this to you.”

Nick studied her. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said, “but I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

She nodded her understanding and escorted him the rest of the way to his quarters before leaving.

Left alone, Nick contemplated his options and paced the room, reluctant to sit when he was still sore and healing from several well-executed hits. He could go back to Earth, pretend his heart wasn’t in another galaxy ( _again_ , a voice whispered slyly in his head), and try to pick up where he left off. That presumed a lot of unknowns Nick couldn’t imagine, starting with whether Amanda wanted him back or had offered the reward out of hope – a hope that had dissipated as days turned into years. Seven years was long enough to be legally declared dead in a lot of places, Nick knew; and Ronon was right: he _had_ found a purpose here. He couldn’t see himself going back to running Sanctuary, not after what he had discovered about himself, living a subsistence lifestyle. He had been drifting after discovering immortality and that his captain wanted to cover up a crooked cop. Being a security consultant, loving Amanda, running Sanctuary, dodging Interpol, playing the Game – they seemed so far away now, irrelevant in the face of real need and a chance of keeping the love he had found.

Decision made, he exited the room. Sergeant Peters was stationed at the nearest transporter; with less than twenty-four hours before the Gate to Earth opened, Nick suspected the whole city was on high alert. It made sense that the transporter closest to the guest quarters was guarded.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe,” Sergeant Peters greeted.

“Did you watch my fight with Teyla?” Nick asked.

“If it helps, sir, few people win against her when she pulls that move. I still don’t know how she throws someone and not lose her weapons.”

“Magic, I’m sure.”

That garnered him a rare smile from the British non-commissioned officer.

 “Do you mind if I ask you a few personal questions?”

“Depends on what they are, sir. If I cannot answer them, I will say, but please ask.”

“How long have you been with the expedition?”

“Four years, sir.”

“Do you ever go back?”

“Went once to settle some personal business and indulge in the things I thought I’d missed, but this place changes you. You realize the good fight’s here. The petty stuff on Earth doesn’t seem to matter after that.” He paused. “If you’re asking my opinion, sir, I heard you’ve been out here longer than us. The longer I’m here, the less I want to go back.”

“If they ordered you to go?”

“I’d go, but I’d be asking when I could be rotated back,” Sergeant Peters admitted. “Sheppard doesn’t ask his soldiers to do anything he wouldn’t do, and I’ve heard stories he’s even volunteered to do things he didn’t feel comfortable ordering someone else to do. Carter’s more cautious, but she’s who he reports to, and I’d expect that caution out of someone at the top. I’ve been proud to serve them.”

“Even though they’re American?”

The sergeant’s smile widened. “If you stay, sir, you’ll understand the allegiances shift from individual countries to this expedition on this side of the Gate. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Knowing that the leadership inspired confidence and loyalty helped solidify Nick’s decision. “Can you check if Colonel Carter is available? I’d like to see her.”

“One moment, sir,” Sergeant Peters said, and tapped his communicator.

Nick waited patiently.

“Colonel Carter, this is Sergeant Peters. Mr. Wolfe would like to speak with you.”

Nick didn’t hear the reply, but got his answer when Sergeant Peters said, “Follow me, sir.”

* * *

John and Ronon stood in Colonel Carter’s office when Nick arrived, looking at a display on the wall of her office. Colonel Carter’s office was decorated in much the same way as John’s, though with more organization than Nick remembered John’s being.

“I should go,” Ronon said, starting towards the door.

“No, I think you should all hear this,” Nick countered as the door slid shut behind him, Sergeant Peters taking up the post outside the door.

“Have a seat,” Colonel Carter invited, and she turned off the display to take a seat in the chair behind her desk.

John lounged against the wall to Colonel Carter’s right, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t care what was going on, but Nick already knew his laid-back pose was a façade. Ronon stood, arms crossed, between his military commander and Nick.

“If it’s all the same to you, I don’t know if I can,” Nick admitted. “Teyla just kicked my ass. It's been a half hour and I'm still a little sore. If I sit down, I might not get back up.”

“We heard,” Colonel Carter noted. “Your body remembers even if your scars heal?”

“For a while anyway,” Nick agreed. “Depending on how bad of an injury I suffered and how quickly I rehydrate.”

Colonel Carter pushed a half-full glass of water towards him. “Please sit,” she ordered, “and maybe you’ll stop looking like I’ll shoot you next.”

Nick stared at her, then followed her command. He took a sip of water, ignoring the fact she had been drinking out of the same glass; her germs wouldn’t kill him. “I want to go back tomorrow.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronon flinch before straightening.

“That’s not the only thing you want to do,” Colonel Carter surmised.

Wondering when he had become such an open book to people he barely knew, Nick took a breath. “I’d like to say goodbye to Amanda in person. She won’t trust a message, especially if it’s a video message. She’s been a thief too long not to know how to manipulate electronics. I know it’s a lot to arrange, but if you can, I’ll be grateful.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat before straightening his shoulders and meeting Colonel Carter’s gaze. He felt like it was the first time he’d spoken in public and did his best to squash the nerves before he spoke again. “Either way, I want to stay and swear my loyalty to you.” He didn’t dare look over at Ronon, needing to get through the rest of what he wanted to say. “That is not conditional on my relationship with Ronon. If we break up in a week or even six months from now –”

“–over my dead body,” Ronon growled.

“–I still want to be here, and we’ll figure out how to make it work.”

Colonel Carter studied him a long, wordless moment, long enough to make him wonder if he had said something wrong, before she smiled and rose to her feet, coming around her desk.

Automatically, Nick stood.

“Welcome to Atlantis, Nick. Call me Sam or Carter, I’ll answer to either.” She shook hands with him.

“Atlantis?” He goggled at her.

“As in, ‘lost city of,’ yes.” Her smile widened. “Or, if you prefer, the City of the Ancestors. Atlantis is easier to say.”

“I see,” he said, realizing that was why he’d been seeing it embroidered on the military uniforms. He’d assumed it was the name of the expedition, a code word for the Pegasus Galaxy. “Amanda warned me that all the old legends were real. I guess I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither were we,” John interjected. “Welcome aboard. Since you’re a civilian, you’ll report to Sam, not me.”

“We were hoping you’d stay,” Sam added. “I’ll assign you permanent quarters. I realize you won’t be in them much, given your relationship with Ronon, but I know sometimes it’s nice to have a space to go to that’s yours. We live in a fishbowl and it’s hard to get privacy or space.”

“I appreciate that,” Nick said.

“That said – I expect you both to be adults and adhere to the same protocols about public displays of affection as everyone else,” Sam said briskly. “Keep it PG. The Ancients installed video and audio monitoring throughout the city, so if you think you’re being recorded, the answer is yes. Nick, as a former security consultant, I’d love to get your input on any blind spots we might have. If there are personal items you want us to retrieve from Earth, such as clothes or photos, please let me know. Sheppard, will you get him the list of prohibited items we won’t transport?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Sheppard promised.

Satisfied with that answer, Sam continued, “I can’t promise you your request for an in-person goodbye will happen tomorrow but let me see what I can arrange. It may be a while, but if you wanted to record a message to be delivered to Amanda, I can ensure it gets to her when we open the Gate tomorrow.”

Nick nodded. “I’ll do it, but make sure it gets delivered by someone from the FBI,” he suggested. “Amanda won’t believe it, but coming from the FBI, it might go over better. The agent in charge at the FBI office in Paris is a friend and a good man.” He took a breath before asking, “Where do you want me to record my message?”

“We have a room off the library where we let people record messages. We screen everything that goes out and all the confidentiality rules apply,” Sam said. “Ronon, would you take Nick there?”

John glanced at Ronon. “Better let me. Otherwise, you might get something recorded you don’t want Amanda to see.”

Grinning, Nick kissed Ronon quickly, too quick for the other man to do anything but look stunned by the touch. “Promissory note for later.” To John, he said, “Lead the way.”

He got as far as the door before Ronon grabbed him. “Messaging your ex-girlfriend can wait,” he growled. “You and I have talking to do first.”

Not surprised, Nick’s smile widened, and he let Ronon lead him to Ronon’s quarters.

Once there, Ronon turned to him. “Why?”

“Because the past two weeks have felt more like home than anywhere I’ve been since I left Illinois,” Nick declared. “You made it so – you and everyone here. I fell in love with you when you made sure I was awake before you escorted me back to my quarters, even when it was oh god early in the morning, just because you didn’t want me stumbling down the hallway and looking like an idiot. I want to wake up to you holding me. I want to kiss you when you’ve come back from a mission and know that no one else gets to see you like I do. I want to see where you and I go from here, if we can make what we have last.” He took a breath before adding, “All I ask is that you’re honest with me and communicate with me.”

Ronon studied him. “I will always tell you how I feel,” he promised. “I will never lie to you about what I think. There’s stuff I can’t talk about, but most of that’s work, and you’ll find out about most of that shit anyway if you’re working with Carter and Sheppard. If you’re pissed at me, tell me, we’ll talk it out, not use weapons or fists to settle it. If you’re facing a danger, tell me. I know you can handle it yourself, but you don’t have to, not with me here.”

“Same goes for you. I don’t like being kept in the dark, either,” Nick admitted. “If I can’t tell you, I’ll least tell you why. I’ll never deliberately hurt you, and I’ll do my best not to hurt you unconsciously. I won’t share you with someone else unless we both agree that’s something we want–“

“– not likely,” Ronon growled. “I’ve never shared a lover and can’t see why I would want to.”

“Not even if it meant you could have children? Immortality means I can’t sire children.”

Ronon shrugged. “Haven’t wanted them in years. Sharing a lover feels like cheating to me.”

Surprised but pleased by that declaration, Nick met Ronon’s gaze. “I won’t cheat on you. I love you. I can’t promise I won’t throw myself into danger to save you or any of our friends, but I’ll do my best to keep the dying to a minimum.”

“You do that, or we’ll have words,” Ronon agreed, pulling him in close so he could kiss him sweetly. It was a long time before Nick made it to the recording room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter - if you do, please tell me what you liked. I'd love to know!  
> Thanks to everyone who's read and commented and kudoed - one more chapter to go! :-)  
> (and yes, I rhyme for no reason....)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow in the Seattle metro area = more fic for you! It's like a winter wonderland out there; I swear I have 8 inches of snow on my front lawn.
> 
> I've gone through and made some edits to previous chapters, including fixing a consistency error where Private Jones was dead in one section and alive the next.

_Sunday, 4 PM_

“Come in, sit down.” The lab-coated Czech scientist, who’d introduced himself as Radek Zelenka, Deputy Science Officer, gestured to the chair in front of the camera in the recording room.

Nick sat down in front of the camera, abruptly nervous. He hadn’t written down anything, preferring to speak from his heart, but now he wondered if he should have. Mindful of everything he had been warned not to do, he’d changed into a dark blue t-shirt and jeans. He felt vaguely underdressed, though his clothes did not differ from what he’d worn the day of the accident and told himself he was being ridiculous. Just because he was still used to wearing the heavier-weight tunics and shirts he’d bought on Belthan was no excuse for thinking he looked wrong. Still, he asked, “Do I look all right?”

“You’re good. I’d say you look handsome, but I do not want Ronon to hurt me.” Radek smiled reassuringly. “Everyone is nervous,” he said. “Just remember, you cannot say anything about where you are or where you’ve been.”

Nick glanced at Ronon, who lounged against the wall, out of frame, holding Nick’s sheathed sword so it would not show up on camera. Ronon smirked. Nick felt heat effuse his face, remembering how sweetly Ronon had taken him, teasing him until he was begging to be pounded into the mattress, rewarding him for his declarations. Taking a deep breath, Nick decided he was better off not looking at Ronon, but at the scientist.

“Ready?” Radek asked. The look on his face said he knew exactly where Nick’s thoughts had gone. “Okay, focus, you’re on in one…two…three.”

Nick took a deep breath before he spoke. “Hey, Amanda, I know it’s been seven years, but I wanted to let you know I’m in a good place. I was in an accident. I got lost for a long time and couldn’t find my way back without a lot of help.” He shook his head slightly, remembering how long he had wished he could go back before pragmatism and a fondness for the Yagurians and their efforts to integrate him had ruled. Now, he had a place again, a home to call his own, new friends, and a lover worth keeping.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I decided it’s better to stay where I am. I’m not the same guy I was back then. As much as I’ve missed you and what we had together, I’ve moved on. You changed my life, taught me how to keep on living and how and when to fight, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. But please understand when I say I won’t be coming back any time soon. Please stop looking for me; you’ll only rattle cages you wish you didn’t open. I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye, but I’m saying it now. I’m sorry, Amanda, but I wish you the best.”

Sensing he was done, Radek stopped the recording. “Did you want to say anything else?”

Nick shook his head. “No. I…if I have anything left to say, if I ever go back, I’ll say it then in person.”

Radek nodded in understanding. “I will get this to Colonel Carter.”

“Thanks, Radek.” He rose and took his sword from Ronon, sliding the strap easily around his body. Ronon waited until they were out of the room to kiss him gently. Nick soaked in the love and kissed him back.

“Feel better?” Ronon asked.

“Part of me wishes I could be there when she sees it, but…” Nick smiled wryly. “Better if I don’t. Did you want to give me a hand moving my stuff out of the guest quarters and into my new room?”

Ronon frowned. “You’re not going to spend much time in your quarters.”

Nick grinned. “Maybe not, but you heard what Sam said.”

Grudgingly, Ronon said, “Your stuff can live in that other room, but I want you in mine as much as possible.”

Chuckling, Nick kissed him briefly. “You’ll get no objections from me on that.”

* * *

_Monday, 6:30 AM_

“Good morning, Nick,” Sam greeted as he stepped into her office and took a seat. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

Nick nodded. “Ronon warned me this was going to be a busy morning; he didn’t let me go back to sleep like he normally does when he goes for his run with Sheppard.”

Sam smiled. “I have more paperwork for you to fill out. The first one is a security access form, expanding your access to be unrestricted throughout the city, so you will no longer need an MP to escort you anywhere. The second is a contract, employing you as a civilian contractor to Stargate Command and the Atlantis Expedition as a security and trade consultant. You probably are sitting there, thinking you’ll never spend a cent of the salary here, but you may want to go back, get a few things you can’t here, and you’ll appreciate having a bank account.”

Nick looked at her, startled. “How is that money going to get into my bank account?”

“One of the forms Sheppard had you sign was a power of attorney. That granted the SGC the ability to access your bank account. Had you chosen to return, it would have been used to pay you a sum equal to seven years of lost wages, based on your tax returns. That sum will be paid to you as a signing bonus instead.”

“Does that mean I have a mailing address?”

“You were already using a PO Box in Paris,” Sam noted. “Ms. Darieux kept that box open, likely hoping you would return. The SGC will continue to do so on your behalf unless you state otherwise.”

“That’s…vaguely frightening from a privacy standpoint but useful to know. I didn’t think about how much stuff would need to get taken care of that would require either a power of attorney or my signature or both.”

Sam shrugged. “No one realizes just how much life on Earth requires signatures, proof of identity, and authority to make something happen. The SGC does an extensive background check of all its personnel. Teyla and Ronon presented unique challenges to that process, but they passed. Your identity on Earth is as secure as we can make it. Anyone looking into your employment will only see that you are a consultant to the US Department of Defense. Any inquiries past that will run into a wall. Stargate Command, or SGC, is a top secret classified entity. As a civilian, you’ll report to me, but you’ll also be working directly for Major Evan Lorne and therefore Lt. Colonel Sheppard; I have final authority. On this side of the Gate, the SGC doesn’t exist and your Earth country of origin doesn’t matter. Sheppard and Weir ran this city as if they were on their own and, since it works, I’ve continued that. There will be SGC staff who will want to countermand my orders; if I’m incapacitated, look to Sheppard and McKay first. You’ll get a briefing on the command structure later today. If I’m trying to kill you or threaten the safety of this expedition or Earth, ignore any order I give, including killing me unless you see no other choice. I forgive you in advance.”

Startled by that, Nick studied her, hearing the voice of experience, and seeing a woman confident in her position. “Can I ask a question?”

“Always. I may tell you I can’t answer it but ask away. I want you to feel confident you can always talk to me.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“I have been the leader of Atlantis for three years, but I’ve been a part of Stargate Command since 1997 and was part of the first off-world team for ten years. The Wraith are not the worst enemies I’ve seen, but they rank up there. I’m not ever going to be someone who sits in this chair and makes decisions without factoring in the amount of sacrifice involved or the risk to the city or Earth. We protect the only Gate this galaxy has to Earth, and I’m very aware we have limited resources to do it. If that means we blow up this city and evacuate somewhere else, we’ll do it, and I won’t hesitate to order you to do your part.” She paused, looking concerned. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes.” Reassured, Nick let out a breath. “What else do you need me to sign?”

Sam smiled. “Life insurance, beneficiary designations, and the SGC legal counsel wants to know what you want to do with your share of the business you co-own with Ms. Darieux, so there’s a form for that as well, so that your back taxes can be handled, among other items.” She handed him the tablet to sign. “Since you asked to stay, I’ve asked about when you can return to Earth; the SGC is withholding that approval for now. They will ask for confirmation of your stay when the Gate opens, on the off chance you’ve changed your mind between now and then.”

“Have to prove myself to them first, huh? No surprise there.” Nick went through the forms; it didn’t take him long to complete them, and he handed the tablet back to Sam, who countersigned the forms and sent them.

“If I need anything, is there a process to get them?”

She nodded. “Once the new personnel and supplies have been checked in, I want you to join in the new personnel orientation. We’ll be introducing you to the new personnel as a civilian security and trade consultant, reporting to me, and working with Major Evan Lorne, who heads security. You’ll find the orientation lecture boring, since you already know about this galaxy, but feel free to add your two cents if you see someone not getting the message. After that lecture, I want you to follow the rest of the orientation process with Lorne and Sheppard, in which you’ll be issued a new laptop, email and access to the network, issued a uniform, shown your office, and told about all our procedures and policies, including how to request the things you need down to toiletries. You will also be taken to the gun range and asked to qualify on the P-90, which is our standard issue weapon here. If you lose your personal weapons, we will get you replacements.”

“If I lose my sword, I’m going to be pissed off,” Nick remarked, leaning back in his chair. He had yet to hear anything that caused him distress. The amount of order and organization felt reassuring after so many years living without such. “That’s assuming I’m not dead.”

“Is your sword custom?”

Nick shook his head “It’s a 16th century English broadsword of the kind that was made by the dozen for the average cavalryman during the English Civil War. I’ve seen others like it in a museum, but it’s the one I know best. I can wield other swords but it’s like firing your gun; you know how it feels in your hand, know the subtle differences between it and something else.”

“Understood. Due to power requirements, Gate access is limited, and must be pre-approved by either me or Sheppard. That means if you think there’s something we could use on Belthan, Serling, or anywhere else in this galaxy or on Earth, you need to come talk to me. If I’m unavailable, talk to Sheppard, but don’t use his position as my second-in-command to do an end-run around me. I won’t tolerate that.”

Nick blinked at her firmness. “Understood. I won’t.”

Satisfied, Sam continued, “We also require that no one travels alone through the Gate for safety.”

“Good idea. Regarding the uniform, is there any flexibility on what I’m wearing?”

“If you prefer civilian clothes for work, all I ask is that you keep it professional, such as a dress shirt and khakis. The embroidered tunics you’ve been wearing with jeans are also acceptable, since they’re a step above a t-shirt. If you’re traveling to another Gate address on business, please come to me and we’ll discuss what is appropriate for where you’re going. I know some places would not appreciate seeing a group in uniform.”

“On Serling, uniforms usually mean money; the government there will notice and spread the word. The guards at the Gate there announces visitors and whether they’ve been there before. I always thought they were the creepy, too-personally-invested version of Customs and Immigration. The government gives them bonuses for especially rich visitors.”

“I’ll make that note. Do you have any questions?”

“Where do you want me to be when the Gate opens?”

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there is a walkway outside this office overlooking the Gate and control area. You’re welcome to stand anywhere on the walkway. I’d like for you to use the time and height to see if you notice anything unusual about the incoming group. Ronon will be on the floor with Sheppard, as will I, but another set of eyes is appreciated.”

“How many will be arriving?”

“Sixteen, six of which will be civilian scientists. The rest will be military. All have been briefed in advance, but I’ve found being told about going through a Gate and then going through one are two entirely different things.”

Nick chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Also, the SGC does its best to weed out potential problems, but it’s had its share of traitors. I fully expect, every time the Gate opens, that we will find someone who passed the extensive security check, and who will try to kill us all. There will be MPs stationed alongside you on the walkway. You have my permission to be armed, whether it’s with the sword and dagger you currently have, or with something more powerful.”

Nick considered his options, aware his familiarity with a gun was seven years out of date. It would come back to him, but he didn’t feel comfortable testing that theory just yet. Waiting until he was on a gun range and in a controlled environment sounded better than worrying about whether he had sighted the gun or knew the correct pressure needed to squeeze the trigger.

“I’ll leave the guns to the MPs for now,” he said, “and not worry about shooting something until later. From my own experience going through a Gate, you have seconds to get oriented to where you are before you have to move or get caught in the backwash. I’ll look out for anything unusual, and the next time we have a group coming in, I’ll have a better sense of what to look for.” He took a breath. “I hope I don’t regret saying that.”

Sam smiled briefly. “You’re fine. Moving on to our next piece of business: Dr. Keller informed me this morning that Private Jones died early this morning. He never regained consciousness. I will be making that announcement before we open the Gate, and we will take a moment to honor him, but his casket will go back to Earth with the others. Unless others want a formal memorial, that will be the extent of his funeral.”

“Because he was responsible for the accident?”

Sam shook her head. “Primarily because we don’t have the time to spare today or the rest of this week, not with new personnel coming in and needing everyone who isn’t new available to ensure no one wanders off into dangerous or restricted areas. If someone really wants it, we’ll fit in, but from what I’ve been able to find out, he didn’t endear himself to anyone in his time here. I suspect he was sent here as a last chance to shape up or die trying.” She grimaced. “Sorry if that sounds cold.”

Nick didn’t fault her pragmatism. “No, I can’t say I’ll miss him, so I’m probably the wrong person to offer sympathy. How’s Specialist Ling?”

“Specialist Ling is awake but in extreme pain; Dr. Keller amputated his legs above the knee yesterday. Did you want to visit him before he is medicated for travel?”

“I don’t know what I’d say. He and Jones were new to the team that morning. Ling was disgusted Jones was that hungover and thought he should have been assigned to scrubbing the locker rooms.”

Sam acknowledged that with a nod. “The Gate will be opening in fifteen minutes. Do you have any other questions?”

“Where is the new personnel orientation?”

“In the conference room. The doors will open for you, since you have the Ancient gene; just wave your hand over any of the white lights next to the doors. Expect the orientation process to take all day, and that you’ll be eating lunch with the group. As for a work schedule, I expect you to hold a regular office schedule, on the condition that you’re available outside of those regular hours for emergencies. That condition extends to Ronon; if it means I disturb your private time, I apologize in advance.”

“I figured that went without saying.” Nick smiled and rose to shake her hand. “I’ll get myself in a good spot. I’m sure you have things to do before the Gate opens.”

“Again, welcome, Nick. If you need anything, come talk to me, see Dr. Putin for therapy, don’t let whatever it is fester. This galaxy is unforgiving, as you know, and we’ll only survive it if we stay together and communicate with each other.”

Nick’s smile widened. “Appreciate it, Sam. Or would you prefer I call you Colonel when we’re working?”

“Up to you. You’re a civilian, so using my military rank isn’t required.”

Nick nodded. “If we’re around people who won’t respect you otherwise, I’ll use it. Thanks, Sam.” He got a bright smile of appreciation in reply, and left the room, wanting to use the restroom and scope out an advantageous position before the Gate opened.

* * *

_Monday, 7 AM_

From his viewpoint on the elevated walkway above the control room, Nick watched as the crew going with the five caskets waited for the Gate to open. Specialist Ling was in a wheelchair, strapped in for safety, medicated to the gills, and would be pushed through the Gate by one of the departing MPs. Besides the wounded and dead, sixteen others were leaving Atlantis permanently; their replacements, along with supplies, would enter the Gate after the group leaving Atlantis had exited.

For a moment, Nick wondered if he was making a mistake by not returning. Then he looked down at Ronon, standing next to John, and looking poised for trouble, and knew he was where he belonged.

“Attention Atlantis,” Sam said over the citywide intercom. “It is with deep regret I must inform you that Private Ken Jones has died from the injuries he sustained in Friday’s accident. We will take a minute to mourn his passing before we open the Gate, starting now.” She was silent, and Nick watched as the assembled personnel in the room bowed their heads in respect. The military personnel took off their caps.

“If anyone wants a more formal memorial, please come talk to me. Control, prepare to send our IDIC,” Sam announced, signaling the minute was over. The military personnel donned their caps and resumed their ready position.

No matter where he had been, watching the giant structure of an Ancestor’s Ring light up with the confirmation of a correctly entered address had still amazed Nick. Seeing it now, knowing where this Ring – _this Gate_ , he corrected himself mentally – went, added another layer of awe.

“Atlantis IDIC accepted,” the man manning the control station announced. “Confirm receipt of SGC Command IDIC. Lowering shield and opening Gate.”

The blast shield covering the Gate slid away. The Gate whooshed open, the connection hypnotic in its water-like appearance.

“Good morning, Atlantis,” an unfamiliar voice greeted. “We are ready.”

“Good morning, Command,” Sam said. “We will be transferring momentarily.” Turning to the assembled group waiting in the gate area, she ordered, “Sergeant Brewington, proceed through the Gate.”

The MP appointed to oversee the exiting crew turned and saluted her. “On behalf of everyone standing here, I’d like to say thank you for an unforgettable experience, Colonel Carter.”

Sam returned the salute. “You’re welcome. Good luck to all of you.”

With a brief nod, Sergeant Brewington pivoted and said, “Honor guard, march.”

The crew carrying the caskets went first, followed by Sergeant Ling, then the rest of the group. Three of the scientists pushed supply containers whose lids were off and stacked in the top container in such a way it was clear the containers were empty. There was a brief pause, then the new group, some pushing sealed supply containers, entered the room.

“Atlantis, this is SGC Command. We have received seventeen alive including one wounded and four dead personnel, seven empty supply containers, and your electronic reports. Please confirm.”

“Command, this is Colonel Carter, that is confirmed,” Sam said. “We have received sixteen alive personnel and twelve sealed supply containers. Please confirm that is what you intended to send us.”

“Confirmed, Atlantis. Mr. Nick Wolfe is not among the personnel we received. Is he staying?”

“Yes, Command,” Sam replied. “You should have all the information you need.”

Nick held his breath, alarmed they would question his decision before remembering Sam had warned him they would ask. He forced himself to exhale.

“Acknowledged, Colonel Carter. We wish him the best. Did you need anything else?”

“Not at this time. Atlantis out.” To the gate controller, Sam said, “Shut the Gate and raise the shields.” Sam waited until that was done before raising her voice. “To everyone who just arrived: welcome to Atlantis. Those pushing supply carts, please leave them where you stand. Set down all baggage on the floor. We will be conducting a scan for security. All of you, please come up the stairs. Nick, please lead the way to the conference room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nick acknowledged, and waited until the group had joined him on the walkway before stepping into the conference room. It did not escape his notice that the four MPs that had been on the walkway took up position just inside the conference room. Since he didn’t want to sit, Nick decided to lounge against the back corner.

The senior staff conducted the orientation session lecture, led by Sam. Nick was not surprised at how deadly serious the staff were in emphasizing the new personnel were not on Earth; what surprised him was how overly confident the new personnel were. One of the civilian women looked as though she’d heard it all before, and Nick found himself glancing at her, then at Ronon and Sam.

Sam picked up the cue. “Nick, is there something you’d like to add?”

Nick strolled over to the woman and sat down. “What’s your name and what are you doing here?”

She looked at him, seeing his Pegasus Native-tunic and her mouth curled into a sneer as she automatically dismissed him as being lower-class and therefore unworthy of her time. “Dr. Judith Cameron-Whitehall,” she said. “I’m a biologist, specializing in plant life. Nothing they’ve said so far is as dangerous as the Amazon. Who are you?”

He pulled out his knife and mimed stabbing her hand. “I’m the guy who just poisoned you with tree bark from Yagur. It stings, mind you, and you think it’s just a prick. Unless you drink the milk from a sylwen in ten minutes, you’ll die.” He smiled toothily. “And that’s milk that’s been properly pasteurized with an herb from Belthan. Problem is, the trees look like Douglas firs and you think they’ll be safe.” He watched horror dawn on her face. “I’m Nick Wolfe, and I’ve been living here for a long time, long enough to go native. Now, why don’t you take what our lovely leaders have to say about this galaxy seriously? The Wraith will feed on you, but only if the plants don’t kill you first.”

Seeing she looked properly chastised, Nick rose and pocketed his knife. Ronon beamed at him and started towards him, but John held Ronon back from going to him with a touch to Ronon’s arm. Ronon scowled but stayed where he was.

Sam cleared her throat. “Thanks, Nick. As he said – there are many things that look familiar but are not what they seem. We have a working database of items we know to be safe, many from this planet and several others we have visited. Please use extreme caution.” She then introduced the rest of the senior staff and Nick, reviewed what the next steps in the orientation would be, and the various department heads took possession of the new people to finish their orientation.

Evan Lorne shook Nick’s hand as he joined him, Ronon, and Sheppard. Evan grinned when Ronon stole a kiss from Nick. “Save that for later,” he reminded them.

“Attention, soldiers,” Evan announced. “I am Major Evan Lorne. I oversee city security, mission security, and all combat teams. I report to Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard here, who reports to Colonel Carter. From this point on, you are part of the Atlantis military. No one cares if you’re from Brazil or the USA or if you’re Air Force or Navy. You will be called Marines and learn to like it. Ronon Dex is from Sateda and is one of our combat trainers. Nick Wolfe is originally from Illinois and has been living in the Pegasus Galaxy for several years; he is consulting on security and trade relations. Yes, they are together. If you have any homophobic comments to make, please raise your hand now and we’ll ship you out with the next batch, provided, of course, that one of them doesn’t kick your ass before then, and they will.” Evan waited.

No one raised their hand.

Looking relieved, Evan continued, “You will also be trained in Athosian stick fighting by Ms. Teyla Emmagan. If you have questions about life in this galaxy, please free to ask any of us, especially Teyla, Ronon, and Nick.”

One of the soldiers raised his hand. “Sir, we were told the Wraith were defeated.”

“They’re like cockroaches,” John drawled. “They keep coming back, so until they stop, or we find where they’re hiding and can set them on fire, I’m going to assume there’s at least one hive we haven’t destroyed.”

“Understood, sir.” The soldier shuddered and swallowed hard. “They showed us the videos, sir.”

“Good,” Sheppard declared, sounding less than impressed. “This galaxy is full of things that will give you nightmares, cultures and societies that don’t align with what we on Earth see as ‘civilized.’ This city is thousands of years old, and it’s suffered damage. We’re repairing it piece by piece, but it might be the thing that kills you. You all saw the caskets coming back. Make sure you’re not one of those bodies and don’t make stupid mistakes.”

Evan took his cue. “As you are military, you know that alcohol and substance abuse are prohibited. We know this is a small town and gossip happens. Too much gossiping will result in someone kicking your ass, and that someone could be any of the senior staff, including civilian department heads, who have all been combat trained. If you become involved with someone in this city, please keep any public displays of affection PG-rated.” He continued to go over more of the rules.

Nick was amused to watch John lounge against the wall as if he wasn’t the senior officer in the room and as if he wasn’t completely aware of everyone in the room and what they were doing. Ronon stood, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who looked like they weren’t paying attention to Evan, and looking completely intimidating. Nick loved it. It reminded him of being back in the bullpen of a detective squad, where everyone knew what they could do and were working together to keep the criminals from overrunning the streets.

Nick trailed the group when they went back to retrieve their belongings from the gate and put them in their assigned bunks. The Marines were housed in a section of the central tower close to the gate room, six people to a room. The three new female Marines were given empty bunks in a room in the same hallway as the others; Nick suspected the choice of replacements had factored in gender so that the available bunks did not exceed the incoming supply.

Nick took the two uniforms he was issued, pausing to drop them off in his quarters, which were down the hall from Ronon’s. He then joined the rest of the group at lunch, which turned out to be a full assembly of Marines. John welcomed the new personnel, introduced them, and then introduced Nick as the new civilian security and trade consultant. The Marines who had seen Nick fight both Ronon and Teyla surprised him by cheering his introduction.

Suspecting a trick, Nick asked them, “Did the fear of Ronon put you up to that?”

“No, sir,” came the reply from one of the senior Marines. “It’s a hope you won’t kick our ass.”

Nick laughed.

Evan looked at him. “Sounds like a challenge to me. You up for it?”

“Let me think about it,” Nick said, and heard the senior Marine groan. He pretended to consider it, then said, “Nah, I’ll kick asses when it’s warranted. This isn’t it.”

Evan, John, and Ronon grinned.

After lunch, they went to the firing range with the new personnel. All ten of the new soldiers passed, though Nick noted over half were sharpshooters. Then it was his turn. The P-90 was not like the service pistol he had carried for ten years; it was a semi-automatic, compact assault rifle. Holding it meant a different arm positioning than a service pistol, and he felt awkward at first. His shot grouping was acceptable, and he knew he would need more practice to master the weapon. Relieved that he hadn’t embarrassed himself, he waited for his next orders.

“Ronon and Lorne, please go help with the supply unpacking. Nick, please come with me. The rest of you, unpack, get some rest, eat dinner, and be prepared to start working in full tomorrow.” John waited until the ten soldiers had come to attention. “Dismissed,” he said, saluting them.

John didn’t wait for Nick to follow; he just started walking, forcing Nick to abandon the idea of saying something to Ronon, since he and Lorne were walking in the other direction.

Suspecting that had been deliberate, he waited until they were in a secure office not far from the gate control room. Four desks occupied the room; three were in assorted states of use, while the fourth looked like it had been cleaned and set up for use.

“Lorne, Ronon, and Hegedueš, who’s our tactical officer,” John said, pointing out who sat where. “And the last one’s yours.” He pointed out the desk that had been set up in the back of the room, complete with laptop and desk accessories. “This is a secure office, coded to you, Lorne, Ronon, and Hegedueš, me, McKay, Radek, Teyla, and Carter.”

“Based on our handprint?”

John nodded. “And your life sign. McKay got scared that if someone cut off someone’s hand, it would trigger the door without a secondary confirmation of life. He figured out the Ancient scanners will look for life signs coded to specific people, so it’s rigged that way.”

“Do you have a problem with me?”

John shook his head. “No. Just thought you’d want to see your office before you got distracted.” He then met Nick’s worried gaze. “Trust me, if I ever have a problem with you, you’ll know, Nick. I don’t like being lied to, either, but I get why you did. I also want to state for the record that if you die temporarily again while you’re in this command, you’d better have damned good reason for it, and I’ll probably still yell at you for scaring everyone in the process.”

Nick looked at him. “Good to know, and I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

John accepted that with a nod. “McKay’s set you up with access to the network and the email server. If you open the laptop, I’ll get you set up. You have limited access to emailing people on Earth, primarily to people in SGC, and you’ll get to know the person who is acting as your power of attorney.”

“Was wondering how that would work, long-term.”

“It can be frustrating,” John agreed as Nick took a seat and opened the laptop. He found a sticky note on the screen that listed his username and password, which he was prompted to change to something secure. He found that the first three emails were from the system admin, all dealing with rules, policies, and procedures, and that the fourth was from Ronon.

_McKay’s the system admin, which means he’s the god of the computer system. No love notes._

Nick swallowed a laugh at that, aware John was watching.

John caught his expression. “Ronon sent you an email?”

“Yeah. He warned me McKay’s the system admin and not to send love notes.”

John chuckled. “Ronon hates email and rarely uses it, same way he hates sitting at that desk. Guaranteed that email is from McKay.”

Nick glanced at the other man. “Is Ronon literate in writing and reading English?”

“He’s gotten better, but he’d rather tell me than write a report and email it. Sateda was an industrialized planet, with a strong focus on planetary defense. Ronon isn’t uneducated. He just doesn’t always see the point in writing everything down. Given what he’s told me, I suspect he’s always been that way.”

“I wondered. Did you need to go over anything else with me?”

Nodding, John pulled up a chair and started to show him.

* * *

_June 10, 7:30 AM Atlantis Time_

Ronon watched as Nick pulled on the clothes he would wear back to Earth: a plain brown military issue T-shirt, fresh underwear, blue jeans, white socks, and a pair of sneakers. They’d come back to their shared quarters after breakfast, as Nick had wanted to make sure he was wearing the right clothes and packed everything. “Wish you could come with me,” Nick muttered as he checked the leather bag he’d packed one last time.

Ronon shook his head. They’d been over this topic for weeks. It was a measure of nervousness that Nick said anything, but Ronon refrained from reminding him that the SGC didn’t want Ronon on Earth for longer than was necessary because he was an alien and a security risk. “Sheppard’s going with you. Don’t let Amanda coerce you into doing anything just because she says someone’s a friend who needs help. I still can’t believe you fell for that.”

Nick grimaced at the reminder. “Not like I expected her friend to be running an illegal organ donation operation.”

“Or capable of poisoning you, or any of the other colorful stories of her friends you’ve told me?” Ronon stepped closer and stilled his lover’s movements. “You’re going to be on Earth. If you forgot something, you can buy it there. You’re only going for a few days, most of it travel time. Don’t make me come rescue you. I love you, Nick.” He reinforced his words with a long, slow kiss.

A chime on their door, followed by, “Stop kissing Ronon, Nick, and let’s go,” heralded John’s arrival.

With a chuckle, Nick stepped back and closed his bag. “Love you, Ronon.” Certain he would be tempted into staying, Nick forced himself not to look back and exited the room.

* * *

_June 11, 10:00 AM Paris_

“You ready for this?” John asked as Nick hesitated a block away from Sanctuary. The trip through the Gate and to Paris had taken less time than Nick had expected, in part because John had gotten authorization to use a flight with only one stop. Still, Nick was tired from the full day of travel, most of it in flight, and knew he hadn’t missed international travel. Going from Gate to Gate was much faster, and Nick found himself wishing he could have stepped through a Gate straight to Paris. He had slept on the flight, but it wasn’t enough time to let his body adjust to both the different time zones and Earth’s gravity, which was just enough different than New Athos that Nick could feel it.

“No, but I know she’s there,” Nick said, and straightened his shoulders.

John, like Nick, wore civilian clothes. Though it wasn’t the first time Nick had seen the military commander out of uniform, John looked different, more out of place than Nick would have imagined someone in jeans, sneakers, and a rock band t-shirt would be. Nick suspected John considered Atlantis his home more than Earth. Once Nick had explained he went nowhere on Earth without his sword, Sheppard had found a vintage-style leather aviator’s jacket for Nick to help hide his sword from plain sight.

Breathing deep, Nick felt the unmistakable resonance of both another immortal and the peace of holy ground and pulled open the door to Sanctuary, which had been built on the ruins of a church and sat above the famous catacombs. Constant devotion to those who had been buried in the catacombs, along with renewed devotion to the gods of wine and beer, had ensured the site’s continued status as holy ground. Here was one of the few places in the world immortals could meet in peace. Nick had been proud to help keep the dance club as a sacred space; he’d once thought he would happily die here. Now, he knew his place was elsewhere.

Blues, sultry and mournful, poured out through the speakers as he moved through the lobby. _Amanda changed nothing_ , he thought, feeling oddly comforted by the notion. He quickly made his way to the main room of the club, conscious of John following him.

Amanda had grown out her hair; it was now a shoulder-length brunette. She appeared deep in conversation with a delivery guy, signing off on a delivery of beer, but Nick could tell she wasn’t entirely calm from the way she kept trying to check the mirror behind the bar to see who was in the room. She hurried the delivery guy along as best as she could, signing the form he handed her, and then turned to face him.

For a moment, she stood there, stunned silent.

“Nick? Oh my god, I didn’t believe the video was real, but Matthew swore it wasn’t a fake. You’re alive and you’re here!” she exclaimed, hugging him, hard. “What happened to you?”

“I got lost,” he told her, returning the hug. He was surprised to realize he did not love her as much as he once had, that the feeling he felt at seeing and holding her was more distant than anything else. “And then I didn’t think I could ever go home, not after so many years. I always wanted to tell you I didn’t leave because I was mad. I just didn’t think I could, until someone convinced me otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to believe that video was real. You looked so different. I’ve missed you so much!” Before he could respond to that, she kissed him in a way that said she had thoroughly missed him. He stood still, remembering a time when such a welcome would have resulted in them finding the nearest non-public horizontal surface, and felt only the distant pang of remembered emotion.

Amanda was no fool. She glanced at John, hovering at the edge of the room. “Is he the one you’ve given your heart away to?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Nick told her honestly. “I meant what I said in the video, Amanda. I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye, but something happened, and I couldn’t make it back without a lot of help.”

“You said you were in an accident. I searched every hospital in France, looking for you. Nobody knew you.”

“I got knocked out so bad I didn’t even remember my name,” Nick replied. It wasn’t a lie; he’d woken up on Yagur so disoriented, the Elder had thought his name was the brand name on his jacket. “I built a life without you, and I can’t stay here. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

She studied him. He could tell she was mentally comparing the man he’d been to the man he was now. “You said in the video to stop looking for you because I’d rattle cages I shouldn’t open. Whatever it is, wherever it is, you can’t tell me,” she surmised, “so I won’t ask. But are you happy?”

“Yes,” Nick said, and smiled as he thought of Ronon. “Are you?”

“I’ve missed you,” she pouted with her trademark pout, and when he only smiled rather than take the bait to kiss her, let out a sigh. “The bar’s doing well. I’m seeing Mac again. Lucy died in her sleep a few months ago. The Game’s gone quiet the last few years. I’m hoping it stays that way. How long will you be in Paris?”

“I just came to talk to you and get a few things I left behind if you still have them.”

She straightened her shoulders. “At least introduce me to the man who’s taking you away from me, Nick. Where are your manners?”

“Gone like a raven after a wolf nearly bit its head off,” Nick said, shrugging. He was surprised to discover he no longer cared about what she thought he’d become. Once, he would have lived to see her smile, to have her approve of how he was doing.

Amanda froze. “Were you really that upset with me? I know I asked you for a lot of favors, and that mess with James and his ideas for sources of organ donation was too much. I thought if we hosted a Halloween masquerade, it would distract you from thinking too much about what James tried to do and how you’d had to take his head. I went to the storage room and saw you’d found my dress and were looking at some of the things I’d found in Egypt, but I could never figure out what it was. It was like you just disappeared into thin air.”

“No, not then,” Nick replied, avoiding answering Amanda’s question about what he had touched. “But I was furious that another one of your so-called friends nearly got me killed. It was why I was out riding my motorcycle that day, trying to decide whether I wanted to keep making the same mistakes where you were concerned. I never could stay angry with you for long, but I was tired of helping you help your friends, who all seemed determined to kill me. It made me realize I was drifting, looking for something to fill my life.”

Regret filled her eyes. “I know. I was hoping I could hold onto you a little while longer. I was so afraid you’d die before your time.” She met Nick’s gaze. In that moment, Amanda looked more like a woman who’d lived for over a thousand years and been unable to save people she’d loved. “I’m glad you’re not drifting anymore, Nick, even if it means you’re with someone else, doing other things. Are you sure you can’t introduce me to your friend?”

Nick kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Amanda, but I’d rather skip the introduction and move on to getting what things I have left, if you’ve kept them, or going to replace them if you haven’t. You’ll be getting a formal letter from my lawyer for the distribution of my share of Sanctuary and the disposition of any personal items I’ve left behind.”

Amanda eyed him, worried. “You’re not in trouble, are you? Is that man with you your parole officer?”

“Amanda, trust me, he’s none of those things, but we do have a deadline and a plane to catch to go back home.”

Undeterred, Amanda moved away from Nick and introduced herself to John. “I’m Amanda Darieux. You are?”

“John Sheppard,” he replied, shaking hands. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And what do you do?”

John’s smile was brief. “Right now, I’m helping a friend. Do you still have keys to Nick’s apartment?”

Amanda sighed, realizing both men were on a mission. She pulled out a key from her pocket. “Go on up, take what you need, then go. If you need anything from my storage room, the keys are in the top drawer of the dresser, along with your spare motorcycle keys. I don’t need to be there.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you, Nick. I always will. If you need me, you can always find me. Promise me you’ll watch your head?”

“Always. You do the same.”

“Never worry about me, darling,” she said lightly, and turned away, though not before Nick read disappointment and heartache on her face.

Nick motioned John to follow him up the stairs to the apartment in which he’d once lived. Unlocking the door was like unlocking a time machine. Nick ignored most of the contents, aware he only wanted things he couldn’t get on Atlantis or in the Pegasus Galaxy, such as the waterproof, winter-weight insulated leather coat with a hidden sword sheath Amanda had gifted him with his first Christmas as an immortal, which he had forgone wearing that fateful day in favor of a more protective motorcycle jacket, and a few other articles of clothing that he had missed. John produced a folding duffel bag that he’d brought along specifically for this purpose; it quickly became filled. Nick’s hands hesitated on a rare photo of him and Amanda together that sat on the nightstand beside the bed; he’d insisted on taking it with his then-new cell phone camera, printing it out, and framing it.

“Bring it,” John told him. “Ronon will want to see it. He won’t believe me when I tell him Amanda’s as beautiful and as smart as you’d said she’d be.”

Nick nodded tightly, then zipped the bag closed. “And then I’ll burn it.”

“Your choice; just do it outside,” John warned. “The fire suppression system in the city is unpredictable.”

That decision made, Nick made a last survey of the apartment, seeing the man he had been. That man had thought being immortal was the toughest part of living. Nick knew better. The toughest part of living was knowing how to thrive, not just survive, and being in love made that effort worth it.

“I’m not coming back here,” he told John, who smiled.

“I know someone who’d be glad to hear that.”

* * *

_June 13 8:30 PM Atlantean Time_

Ronon waited for them on the other side of the Gate. After three months together, Nick could read his boyfriend’s nervousness. Ronon greeted John first, since he was first out of the Gate, hugging him in welcome.

Grinning, John said, “I’m sure you’d rather greet someone else,” and stepped aside.

Ronon met Nick’s eyes. “You get what you needed?”

Nick nodded and kissed him, keeping it chaste since they were in the Gate control room. “Amanda took it well, considering what I was expecting.”

“She can’t have you. Do I need to kick her ass to make her believe it?”

“No. I’m home,” he said, and smiled mischievously. “Did you miss me?”

Ronon lifted an eyebrow. “Never,” he swore, and immediately added, “Don’t go away like that without me again.”

Chuckling, Nick kissed him again, and led him to their quarters.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this last chapter and this story. I've had a blast writing this and look forward to your comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticism welcome, even when this fic is "old." I love hearing from my readers!


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